


The Breakfast Club

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 80s AU, F/M, The Breakfast Club - Freeform, sansan, sansan fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: What would you do, the Monday after a detention with four strangers who were now your friends, and after a kiss and a suggestion of something more? If you're Sansa Stark, you go get that boy.Sansan Breakfast Club AU.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Gilly/Samwell Tarly, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 206
Kudos: 365





	1. Week One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's here. It's long. It's got 80's references (though I am a child of the 90s so forgive me what I get wrong.) 
> 
> Mature content in later chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sandor stood in the hallway, listening to his friends talk without hearing a word they said. He’d chosen his spot very strategically, though he was telling himself that this was always where he stood on a Monday morning. A Monday morning where he’d made it to school on time and was now waiting, leaning against the lockers and watching the front door.

None of this had anything to do with a one Sansa Stark, not at all. A Saturday in detention, a kiss outside the school, a promise of something, a day spent dreaming about her.

She had nothing to do with the way his eyes scanned the doors, waiting for a glimpse of her red hair.

She probably wouldn’t even come in this way. She skipped class sometimes. Maybe today wouldn’t be any different. And did he even want to see her? It was one thing to be with her in the library or alone in a storage closet or outside with her indifferent driver ignoring them outside the car window. But she was still the most popular girl in school and one Saturday didn’t change that.

He reached up, almost out of habit, to touch the earring and make sure it was still there. He’d been playing with it all weekend, dodging his dad and brother so that they didn’t see it and assume he’d stolen it. It reminded him that it’d been real. That Sansa Stark was a real girl, not just a pretty doll up on shelf who only spoke when someone pulled her silk strings.

The door slammed and chatter filled the hall. He looked up again, not really expecting to see her. His gaze swept over the crowd of giggling girls automatically and didn’t think to look twice. Until that spot of red appeared and there she was, in flats and stirrup pants with a jacket. It made her seem softer, wrapped less tightly than her skirt. Her hair was still perfectly coifed, and he wanted to run his hands through it and shake it out.

She didn’t see him for a second and he felt his heart give a painful lurch; all his nightmares were coming true. She didn’t want to be seen with him. He’d prepared three cutting remarks before her gaze shifted and she spotted him, something in her face lighting up. He could see the emotions play out on her face, slowly, as she grew apprehensive, then resolved, then nervous, then determined once again. She began to walk towards him and everything he was going to say fled his mind.

She marched to them with purpose, adjusting her bag and fiddling with a ring as she approached. He watched her without moving a muscle. If she wanted this, she was going to have to prove it. He was going to make her work for it. And what had Sansa Stark ever worked for in her life?

“Hey.” she had a little smile on her face, and not the smirk that she wore for everyone beneath her. He didn’t say a word; it was distracting how pretty she was up close. She reached up and touched the earring, giving it a gentle tweak. Something like a smug smile crossed her face and then she walked away, a little swing in her hips. He watched her go silently, his stomach feeling like it’d been upended into his chest.

“The fuck was Sansa Stark doing talking to you?” Trant demanded and Sandor absentmindedly aimed a punch at his head, wandering away. He was lost in his thoughts and he wanted to go smoke and ruminate on them. She’d surprised him this morning, and he didn’t want it to happen again.

* * *

Sansa drummed her pencil against the desk thoughtfully. She wasn’t paying any attention to the history class being taught at the moment, nor did she really care to. All she could think about was this morning with Sandor. She hadn’t expected to see him. She thought she’d handled it well, given the fact that he’d been surrounded by his friends, those leering and vulgar cronies.

“Pst. Sansa!” Margaery was prodding her with her eraser. “How was detention this weekend?”

“Fine,” Sansa whispered back, as Mr. Pycelle droned on and on about some war or the other. “Boring.”

“I heard Gendry was in with you.” Margaery raised an all knowing eyebrow. “How’d that go?”

“Fine?” Sansa gave her what she hoped was a strange look.

“Fine?” Margaery’s eyebrows were doing a dance worthy of a Tony. “Just fine then?”

“Fine.” Sansa turned back to the front, pretending to take detailed notes.

“Oh, come on, you know he has a huge crush on us. And I say us because there’s no way anyone could decide who is better looking.”

“Shut up,” Sansa hissed and when Margaery gave her an affronted look, added, “Pycelle might be deaf but no one else in here is.”

“Whatever.” Margaery flipped her curls over her shoulder. “Are you going to prom committee meeting tonight?”

“Maybe.” Sansa had completely forgotten about it in the wake of the weekend. She’d spent most of Sunday sort of floating about the house, unable to sit down and focus on any one thing longer than a few minutes. Her mind was a bit consumed with thoughts of Sandor. Nothing was as exciting as it was trying to keep up with his rapid fire mix of insults, compliments, and cutting remarks.

“Maybe?” Margaery looked at though Sansa had told her of her intention to join a nunnery. “Sansa. Prom is in three weeks. You can’t miss it.”

“I’ve got some things with my parents is all.” Sansa waved a hand, now doodling in the margins of her notes.

“What things, custody hearings?” Margaery snorted and Sansa shot her a filthy look. Margaery, perhaps sensing the tumultuous nature of Sansa’s parents’ relationship was a bit too far, shut up and went back to her own notes. Sansa bent her head down over her paper. It occurred to her that when Sandor remarked on her family’s disfunction, she sensed a bit of understanding from him that she never got from her so-called best friends. But what did Margaery know about problems, when her own life was so perfect?

Everyone thought they knew her. Everyone thought that they understood. But this weekend had showed her that no one did. She looked up over her class, seeing the same people she’d seen every day for years. She’d went to pre-school with most of them and even the newest person, an exchange student named Dany, had been here for the entire school year. How many of them had lives and secrets and hopes and fears that Sansa had never even bothered to consider?

It all seemed so futile now. The prom and the gossip about if she and Gendry were a thing or not. All of it was for children, for dumb masses unable to think for themselves. For her friends, even for herself is she was being honest. The only one it wasn’t for was Sandor.

* * *

Second and third hour were best spent smoking under the bleachers, he’d found. Throwaway hours anyways, just science and English Lit. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever use chemistry in his real life, and he already knew how to read, so what did any of it matter? He did his best work out here anyways.

He stared down with pride at a freshly rolled joint. It was neat, perfectly round, and just thick enough to get him high but not thick enough to give him the munchies before he stole lunch from some freshman. He took his lighter from his pocket and lit it, taking a heavy drag. He exhaled the smoke. He’d spent the better half of first period talking to the Kettleblack brothers, who were annoying on the best of days. He’d finally chased them away so he could smoke and think in peace.

He laid down again on the picnic table that’d been dragged under here ages ago by some other delinquents. He took another hit, one that went all the way down into his lungs. He closed his eyes. It was an unseasonably warm day for March. Maybe he could get some sleep without the threat of being dragged from his bed to be tormented by his father or brother.

“Are you going to share that?”

He opened his eyes to see Sansa staring down at him, arms crossed and jacket pulled tight. He didn’t move for a second, not wanting to reveal that he was surprised by her presence.

“Why should I?” he questioned her and she watched him for a moment before sticking her hand out. He wanted to be startled by her presumptuousness, but it wasn’t startling, it was sexy. He held up the joint and she took it effortlessly between two fingers, lifting it to her lips.

“How long you been out here?” she asked, once she’d exhaled the smoke and handed him the joint back.

“Why are you out here?” he ignored her question in favor of his own. Sansa quirked an eyebrow but than sat down on the top of the picnic table, her feet on the bench. If he scooted just a few inches, he could rest his head in her lap. He eyed it, briefly.

“I needed to think.” seeing that the joint was going out, Sansa picked up his lighter and flicked it, holding it out to him. Slowly he leaned forward towards the flame with the joint between his lips and reignited it. Sansa flipped the lighter shut like she’d done it a thousand times before.

“About?” he asked and she laughed, taking the joint from him.

“If I told you, you’d make fun of me.”

“Where’d you get the impression that I’m not going to mock everything you tell me, princess?”

“I don’t want to be on the prom committee anymore.” Sansa stared directly at him, daring him to laugh. He desperately wanted to, given the circumstances. 

“All that hard work, down the drain?”

“Don’t act like you’re sad about it.” she passed the joint back to him and for a brief second, their fingers touched. He had to work to not physically recoil at the intense sensation that went through him. “You’ve made it abundantly clear what you think of me and my friends.”

“What’s going to fill your time if not a hundred starry nights?” he questioned, blowing the smoke back at her. Sansa smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“The theme is actually a million starry nights, since romance is eternal.”

“You don’t believe that shit,” he scoffed and she didn’t speak until she smoked the end of the joint and ground out the roach on the picnic table. She flicked it away and got up, brushing her hands off.

“No, I don’t. But neither do you.” with a little smile, she walked backwards for a few steps, then turned and went back for the school. He admired watching her go for as long as he could see her.

* * *

“Sansa!” Gendry was sitting at the lunch table with the rest of the wrestlers and a few other sports guys. He pushed back to give her a look of concern, half of his lunch abandoned.

“Hey.” she stopped, glancing over at the table where her friends were waiting. She could tell, even without seeing her, that Margaery was craning her neck to see what they were doing.

“How are you?” something in Gendry’s face made it seem like he was asking more for himself than her, but Sansa gave him a little smile.

“Fine.” she wondered if he could see the redness of her eyes. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Arya?” his eyes flickered to the table in the corner, where the rejects usually sat. Arya’s black clad form wasn’t amongst them.

“Not yet, no.” she hadn’t seen Sam either, but she didn’t want to tell Gendry that she’d been smoking with Sandor Clegane two hours ago.

“Oh.” he gave one last look around the lunch room. “Uh, never mind then.”

“Want me to say hi for you if I do see her?” Sansa offered, partly joking.

“No,” Gendry said, a bit too quickly. Sansa raised an eyebrow and he went red around the neck. “I think I should say something to her, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” she gave him a little smile, but wondered what she’d do if she saw either Sam or Arya. She should thank Sam for the paper; obviously it’d gone over well or they might have had more detentions. As it was, Sandor was going to be in detention until summer.

“See you around?” Gendry asked and she nodded, smiling. He went back to his lunch table amid some low hoots and catcalling. Sansa rolled her eyes and went to her table, where all of her friends were waiting.

“I knew it!” squealed Margaery, grabbing her arm and squeezing it until it hurt slightly. “You and Gendry!”

“Stop.” Sansa sat down and took her lunch out. Mordane, her nanny turned housekeeper had packed her a perfectly balanced meal. It was neatly wrapped and Sansa laid it out side by side as Margaery chattered.

“I told everyone that you two in detention was going to lead to something, I knew it! He was acting so weird at the party this weekend, he wouldn’t talk to anyone. So when did it happen? How long has it been happening? How far has it happened?”

“Would you stop?” Sansa snapped and Margaery went silent. The whole table went silent, staring at her. “I’m not dating Gendry. Nothing is happened between us. So can we all just drop it?”

“What has gotten into you lately?” Jeyne wrinkled her brow and Sansa sighed, picking up her salad and pulling the lid off it.

“Nothing, okay? I just don’t think you guys should speculate about it anymore. It’s really annoying to me and Gendry.”

“Fine.” Margaery picked at her lunch. “But you’re sort of acting like a bitch.”

“Better than a princess,” Sansa huffed, but under her breath.

* * *

Sandor liked shop. It was good for him, working with the hands instead of trying to write out words and numbers. No one asked him to explain his work. No one asked why he did it the way he did. He just got to put his head down and get to it. No one bothered him.

That was why he was usually in the shop after school. It postponed his arrival home and Mr. Brax never minded if he was in there. He had just finished up the cabinets he’d been working on, and now he was free to ponder his new project. There was a faint inkling in the back of his head of what it would be, but he forgot all about that when he entered and saw Sam standing there, eyeing the table saw with fear.

“Oi,” Sandor said loudly and Sam jumped, before turning and spotting him.

“Oh, Clegane.” he relaxed. “There you are. I was hoping you’d be here.”

“What you want?” he demanded, a bit rudely, but Sam was undeterred.

“I talked to Mr. Brax. If I redo the lamp, I can get a better grade on it. Not 100%, but higher, and if I do well on it then I can maybe keep my 4.0. It’s a long shot and I have to do it outside of class, but —”

“Tarly.” Sandor cut him off.

“I wanted to know if you’d help me?” Sam had an anxious, hopeful smile on his face. “Since you’re good at shop and all.”

“Shop’s for morons,” Sandor reminded him, a bit cruelly, and Sam’s fleshy face reddened.

“I get now that we have different strengths,” he said carefully and without breaking eye contact, Sandor flipped on the saw. Sam flinched and moved away. Smirking, Sandor turned it off. He figured anything sharper than a pencil would frighten Sam and he felt vindicated in his theory. Sam might have been smarter than him, had a brighter future than him, had a better family than him, but Sandor had this.

“What’s in it for me?” he questioned, going to look over the pile of wood.

“I had Mr. Brax talk to Mr. Lannister,” Sam said eagerly. “He agreed that if you help me with my shop project, it would count towards your detention. Two hours after school each day and you don’t have to go in on Saturdays anymore.”

“He agreed to that?” Sandor was shocked. Mr. Lannister never seemed to miss out on a chance to torment him, just as much as his family. Sandor had accepted that he was going to spend the rest of his junior year serving out Saturdays with him. It was rather freeing, to know that no matter what else he did, Lannister couldn’t give him any more detention than he already had.

“Well, I think it was because Mr. Brax explained to him that I —”

“I don’t care.” Sandor began to haul wood towards the table. He had a project to begin. Sam hovered behind him uncertainly.

“Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“Get some fucking wood Tarly, I’m not your damn babysitter.”

“Thank you!” Sam’s face had lit up and he nearly tripped over himself to approach Sandor. “Thank you, thank you, I appreciate it so much I really —”

“Wood.” Sandor used a 2x4 to ward off the hug that he was sure Sam was going in for. Sam stopped abruptly, the wood aimed at his throat. Sandor raised an eyebrow but Sam clearly got the point and made no further attempts to approach. Instead he went to the pile and began gathering wood as well.

* * *

Sansa walked to the cafeteria, lost in thought. She didn’t really want to go to the prom committee meeting. She didn’t really want to do anything. It was an odd feeling, to be a bit aimless. She thought that maybe she could call Robb, go visit him for a weekend to see if that’d help get her head back on straight. After all, seeing him never failed to cheer her up, even if her only sibling was a pain in the —

“Arya?” she did a double take, drawn out of her thoughts by the sight of the small figure sitting in a locker. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Arya glanced up at her. She looked a bit different than she usually did. She’d kept the black clothes, though a bit less baggy than they’d been before. And her hair was actually pushed away from her face. The makeup wasn’t so harsh and she’d apparently taken Sansa’s advice to pluck her eyebrows to heart.

“Oh, I should tell you. Gendry was looking for you at lunch,” Sansa informed her and didn’t miss the fact that Arya’s face went red.

“Why?” she sounded almost defensive about it.

“I don’t know.” Sansa gave her a smile. “He didn’t say. But if you want to find him, he’s usually got a little bit of time before wrestling practice. He spends it in the weight room.”

“I’m not going there.” Arya tossed her head and barely avoided smacking it on the locker. Sansa raised an eyebrow.

“He won’t laugh at you.”

“And how do you know that?” Arya tried to sound cutting, but it mostly came out vulnerable.

“Because Sandor didn’t laugh at me this morning,” Sansa admitted honestly and Arya stared at her for a moment.

“I saw you kiss him, you know. You shouldn’t break his heart. He’s broken enough.”

“Aren’t we all?” Sansa asked her and Arya nodded after a second. “Besides, we both know what it is. He made it very clear.”

“Oh, silly, pretty, stupid Sansa.” Arya stood up and shook her hair out. “You don’t know anything about him at all.”

“Maybe,” Sansa admitted, shrugging. “But I do know Gendry, better than most anyways. And you should go see him in the weight room. It’s that, or you can go to the prom committee meeting with me.”

“I’d rather get laughed at by a bunch of man apes with an IQ of seven than bitchy girls,” Arya retorted and Sansa smirked.

“I do believe that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me.” she gave Arya another smile. “Go see him. I don’t think it’d be weird or anything.”

“I’m weird,” Arya reminded her.

“Sure you are, but you’re pretty too. That means a lot, to boys.” with a wink, Sansa left her in the middle of the hallway. She did hope that Arya went to the weight room. She did know Gendry, and she hoped that they worked out. It certainly was a better story than a prom queen and star athlete anyways.

* * *

It was easy for Sandor to avoid going home now that he had Sam to keep him at school for a couple extra hours. That took up a big chunk of his afternoon, and then by the time he got home, both his brother and father were usually deep into several beers and a football game. It was almost warm enough out to sleep out in the shed, and he could start working at the Isle once summer construction season picked up again.

His stomach rumbled mightily, but the buzzing of the saw kept Sam from hearing it. He wanted to have enough money to get himself a sandwich at the convenience store but the fact remained that he was broke. He’d have to go hungry, until he could try to sneak inside and take something from the pantry.

“Alright, I think this is where I’m going to leave it.” panting, Sam shut off his saw. Sandor had been working with him to make him less scared of them, and he was proud to note that over the course of the week that Sam stopped flinching whenever he turned one on. “We can stop an hour early on Fridays!”

“Joy,” Sandor muttered, sliding one last block through the saw before shutting it off as well. Sam had also learned over the week to say as few words as possible to avoid Sandor snapping at him. They cleaned up in silence, then walked together towards the exit. Today was a colder day, and Sandor pulled his coat tight around himself.

“Hey, is that Sansa?” Sam perked up as they walked towards the exits. Sandor’s head snapped up and before he could stop him, the younger boy began yelling, “hey! Hey Sansa!”

“Sam.” Sansa stopped in her tracks and gave them a smile. She had a dress on today, and it was half obscured by a coat. As they walked up to her, Sandor did his best to seem aloof. A couple times since Monday, she’d caught his eye in the hall or lunchroom, but neither of them had been alone long enough to have a conversation. “What are you two doing?”

“Shop,” Sam said brightly. “Clegane is helping me redo my lamp instead of serving detention.”

“That’s so nice of you.” Sansa’s eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled at him. “No Saturdays spent making mayhem then?”

“I’ll make it elsewhere,” he replied and Sansa’s lips curved up into a smirk.

“I’m sure you will.”

“What are you doing?” Sam asked her, clearly oblivious to the things passing unsaid between Sandor and Sansa.

“Student council meeting.” she waved a hand. “Load of shit, if you ask me.”

“Well, government is an essential cornerstone of our democratic process,” Sam said eagerly and Sandor gave him a little shove.

“Well, I hope your lamp project goes well,” Sansa said kindly to Sam, who only then seemed to understand that he was being dismissed when Sandor glared at him.

“Ah, yeah, you too,” he said vaguely, taking a few steps back. “Have a good weekend?”

“You too!” Sansa called as he walked to the parking lot. Then she turned and faced Sandor, still smirking.

* * *

She hated to admit how hot he was. Margaery and Jeyne and any of her other friends would die to hear her say it, but she meant it honestly. Sandor was hot. Tall, long hair that he flipped around like it had a mind of it’s own. And even if his clothes were a bit dirty and dingy, there was no hiding the fact that they clothed a fit body under it. The only thing that was any sort of off-putting was the scar, and she was even beginning to like that.

“Weekend plans?” she asked him with a quirked eyebrow and Sandor stared at her, long and hard.

“Yeah, got a full schedule. Why, you want my butler to try and squeeze you in?”

“I’m sure I can just take up the recently vacated 7 am to 4 pm on the next, what was it, seven Saturdays?” she was a little bit glad that he was free now. She hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do with this information, but it made her stomach squirm nonetheless.

“You sure about that, princess?” he demanded, a bit unkindly and Sansa opened her mouth to make a comment back, but before she could, Sandor’s stomach rumbled so loud that she could only stare at him in shock.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said defensively and Sansa looked up at him, startled.

“Are you that hungry?” she thought about his lack of a lunch last Saturday and seemingly every day since.

“No.” he glared and Sansa briefly weighed her options. Risk pissing him off, but getting him fed, or carry on their witty banter and spend the entire weekend wondering if he was starving somewhere.

“C’mon,” she offered, turning towards the doors.

“Where are we going?” he asked, following her with some reluctance. She looked back at him with a smile, opening the door out into the brisk spring air. She led him silently to where her car was parked in the back of the lot, the BMW symbol shining in the afternoon light.

“My parents have been fighting all week,” she told him, as she unlocked the car. He stood on the other side, eyeing her skeptically. “My mom’s ran off to go visit her parents down south, and my dad will probably spend the entire weekend locked away in his office.”

“Gonna have a big party for all your friends?” he was mocking her, but he was also getting in the car, so she took that as a win.

“No, he has an at home office. And Mordy will be there anyways.”

“Mordy?” he raised an eyebrow but was distracted fiddling with the dials, turning the radio from a pop station to a heavy metal one.

“My housekeeper.”

“You have a housekeeper?” Sandor stared at her in disbelief. “What the fuck even is a housekeeper anyways?”

“She literally keeps the house running,” Sansa explained, pulling out of the school parking lot. “Buys groceries, cooks meals, cleans stuff up, arranges for any services we might need, or whatever the hell my parents want. She basically is my mom, most days.”

“And you pay her for that?” Sandor looked as though she told him the sky was purple.

“My parents do,” Sansa corrected and he was silent, watching out the window as she drove towards her home.

* * *

Of course Sansa lived in the nicest part of town. Once, he’d skateboarded over here, just to keep himself out of the house, and he’d nearly been arrested. For loitering. On a damn side street, on his skateboard. It was all bullshit, but who was going to defend a kid like him? Of course Sansa’s car slid through the streets and blended in with all the three story mansions and the other sports cars.

He did his best to sulk in the passenger seat and to not look up in awe. He didn’t want Sansa getting the impression that anything she had impressed him, but he’d be damned if it didn’t. Especially when she turned down a gated drive and it swung open, revealing an impossibly long and immaculately gardened driveway. Sansa didn’t seem moved in the slightest as she pulled around to a huge garage and parked inside.

“Coming?” she asked him, getting out and slamming the car door. Slowly, he rose up. Sansa grabbed her backpack from the backseat and went to the front door, flanked by two huge pillars of what he sort of thought had to be real marble. He scuffed his shoes on the pristine white steps but Sansa didn’t say a word, unlocking the front door.

If he’d thought the exterior was impressive, the inside was even more so. A grand staircase in front of them. Huge vases filled with flowers. A chandler casting rainbow light as the setting sun refracted around inside it. Sansa carelessly threw her backpack onto the stairs and disappeared off through one door. He followed, trying to take it all in.

“My whole fucking house fits in the garage,” he muttered to himself. Sansa gave no indication that she heard, instead standing in the middle of the kitchen. After a second, she yelled,

“MORDY!”

“Jesus christ.” Sandor stared at her. The girl had a set of pipes on her, he would say that much.

“You’re home late.” a grey haired woman, short and a bit pudgy, bustled in the kitchen holding a broom and a dustpan. “I thought student council was on Thursday.”

“They pushed it back,” Sansa explained, taking a seat at the massive bar. Sandor hung back, unsure and uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Well they should really — oh.” Mordane stopped in her tracks when she looked up and noticed Sandor standing there. “Did you bring a…. friend home?”

“Mordy, this is Sandor Clegane.” Sansa glanced back at him with a smile. “He’s in my grade.”

“Are you partners for a project?” Mordane asked hopefully. “A short project?”

“Not at all.” Sansa was far too cheerful for this, he felt. “Mordy, we’re starving. Can you make up some snacks for us?”

“What would you like?” Mordane stepped towards the pantry, never once taking her eyes off Sandor. He wanted to growl at her or some shit, just to scare her even more.

“Well, let’s start with a meat and cheese tray, and some crackers,” Sansa said thoughtfully, “and throw in a pizza while you’re at it, please. Do we still have stuff for milkshakes? We can do that for dessert.”

“Is that all?” Mordane asked dryly and Sansa shrugged, hoping down.

“Maybe. We’ll see how we feel. You can bring it up to my room!”

“Sansa!” Mordane yelled, scandalized as Sansa caught Sandor’s hand and tugged him out of the kitchen. “I’ll have to tell your father about you having boys up in your room!”

“Please do.” with one last pull, Sandor was led to the stairs and up them.

* * *

“This is my room.” Sansa opened the door, feeling incredibly self conscious as she did so. Sandor walked in behind her slowly, his face impassive as he looked around. Sansa even had to admit, it was a lot of pink. She’d thought about redoing it for awhile now, but it seemed like such a hassle when she was just going to go off to college anyways. Pink and marble, with lots of gold touches. Sandor turned slowly in a circle before stopping and looking at the kingsized bed against one wall.

“Where the magic happens,” he remarked sarcastically and she flushed. She’d never had a boy in her room before, and not certainly a boy like Sandor.

“Actually, the magic is in there.” she pointed to a door and after a second of hesitation, Sandor went and pushed it open.

“Seriously?” he walked inside the closet and she followed with a smile. She kept it perfect, all her clothes color coded and hung up by length. Shoes on the lower shelves, purses on the middle shelves, and hats on the upper rack. “Your fucking closet is as big as my living room, do you know that?”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” she told him and he turned to look at her.

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly and he looked like he was going to say something, but then resumed browsing the clothes and shoes, occasionally touching some at seemingly random. Sansa watched him until the strange moment was broken by a knock on her door.

“Meat and cheese,” Mordane said quietly, pushing inside the room. Sansa and Sandor both watched as she set it down on the little bench at the end of Sansa’s bed. She looked at the two of them like she wanted to say something but when Sansa raised an eyebrow, gracefully bowed out.

“Go ahead and eat.” Sansa gestured to the tray and didn’t miss the longing in Sandor’s eyes.

“I don’t even know what half this shit is.” he turned his nose up, but took a few steps towards it.

“Brie, cheddar, gouda, and swiss.” Sansa pointed to the variety. “And the meat is turkey, ham, salami, and pepperoni. Stop being dramatic and eat it.”

“So now what?” Sandor sat on the bed and grabbed a few pieces of meat. When she turned her back to go get the remote, she didn’t miss that he grabbed a fistful more.

“Well, my dad has the best TV package. We could always watch some HBO.” she took her time looking for the remote and when she turned back around, was quick to notice that most of the tray was empty. Sandor was munching on a cracker, like it was nothing.

“That what I’m here for, Sansa?”

“I don’t know what you’re here for, Sandor.” she looked at him pointedly and for a second it seemed like he was going to challenge her. Then he picked up a bit of gouda and bit into it.

“This tastes like shit.”

“That’s because it’s authentic and doesn’t come from a plastic sleeve. Have it with a cracker.” she sat down on the bed next to him, but still a decent ways away.

* * *

Being around Sansa was overwhelming enough, but being immersed in Sansa was something else entirely. Her smell - flowery and sweet - was all around him when he sat amongst her sheets. She was reclining next to him, having a slice of pizza and laughing at the show they were watching. He glanced at her discreetly every now and then and saw how relaxed she was, red hair messy against the pillows. Once, she caught him looking at her and just smiled. It was sweet and entirely foreign to him.

“Watch this part,” she urged him, when he was looking up at her. “It’s so funny.”

“You’ve got a lame sense of humor, princess,” he muttered and she jostled him.

“Why, because it’s not dirty like yours?” she giggled and he smirked up at her.

“She WHAT?” a yell went throughout the house and Sansa abruptly straightened up, nearly spilling the plate of pizza that had been lying on her stomach.

“That’s my dad.” she went pale. “He’s home.”

“Sansa!” another yell. Sandor knew he had two choices; jump off the bed and run for the closet like a coward, or make himself valuable to Sansa. He chose the second in a heartbeat. He pushed the empty pizza platter off the bed and pulled Sansa down on top of him. A bit roughly, he grabbed her hips and buried his face in her neck, breathing in the heady warmth of her. Sansa gasped and went stiff in his arms, but after a second she softened and seemingly melted to fit the hard angles of him.

It only lasted a second; before he could lift his lips to hers and taste her again, the door blew open like a gale force wind. Sansa jumped off him with a squeak and Sandor got his first look at Ned Stark. It occurred to him for a brief, fleeting moment that it likely would have been much safer to make a run for the closet.

Sansa’s father was easily over six feet and as broad shouldered as Sandor’s own family members. Sansa’s mother had to be a waif, since Sansa clearly got neither her father’s height or stature. He stood in the doorway, glowering, as Sansa stammered out excuses and tried to rearrange her mused clothing.

“Dad — daddy — I didn’t — you —”

“Sansa.” Ned looked murderous, but all Sandor did in response was reclined on the bed, trying his hardest to seem unfazed. “What the hell is this?”

“What does it seem like?” Sandor asked quietly and Ned’s eyes flashed.

“Your friend needs to leave,” Ned warned and after she seemingly found her voice, Sansa replied,

“No.”

“No?” Ned stared at her. “Sansa, do not test. me”

“Sandor is going to stay.” Sansa was trembling. “Mordy is making us milkshakes.”

“Milk….” Ned trailed off, incredulous. “Young lady, you’re going to get grounded.”

“So?” Sansa tossed her head.

“I’ll take away prom,” Ned threatened.

“Good.” Sansa crossed her arms. “I don’t even want to go anyways.”

“Jesus….” seemingly lost, Ned shook his head. “Wait until I call your mother. I’ll bring her home for this!” with that he left the room and Sandor exhaled a breath he wasn’t really aware he’d been holding.

* * *

“Holy shit.” Sansa’s heart was racing, but in a good way. She’d rarely seen her dad so mad, but it felt good for once, to have him look at her and see her, instead of just tossing money at her and walking away. Sansa twisted to face Sandor. He was laying on her bed like he owned the thing, casually inspecting his nails. Did nothing get to him?

“You think that’s impressive?” he didn’t look up at her. “You should see what he does when you come with me to a party tomorrow.”

“What kind of party?” Sansa immediately turned skeptical. She liked Sandor plenty, but that was because he was special. He wasn’t like the other guys in his friend group. He wasn’t like any other guy, period.

“My kind of party,” he clarified, brushing pizza crumbs from her bedsheets. “What did you call it? Heavy metal vomit parties?”

“You’re taking me to that sort of party?” she crossed her arms. She didn’t believe him, not for a second. It was one thing to be seen with the prom queen at school, where everyone probably thought he was boning her and it looked so good for his image. She didn’t care all that much about what his intentions were with her at school, but this was the real world. Outside their high school bubble.

“You saw what your old man did when he thought I’d shoved my tongue down his perfect little girl’s throat. Imagine the sort of attention you’ll get if he thinks I’m slipping you something else at parties.”

“I….” Sansa was flustered at all the implications, but then Sandor raised an eyebrow.

“Drugs, Sansa. I was talking about slipping you drugs.”

“You’re disgusting,” she told him without much gusto. “Am I just telling him that you’re taking me to a party or do I actually have to go?”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Sandor picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. It seemed that he liked to have something to do when they broached the prickly subject of what they were and how far it seemed to go.

“What if I wanted to go?” she asked him carefully and two grey eyes flickered to her, briefly.

“You’d go?”

“My other options are another party at Roslin Frey’s with one of her hundred brothers try to get into my pants and shitty beer.” Sansa inspected her nails, peeking up at Sandor through her lashes. He looked thunderstruck.

“We have shitty vodka,” he warned her and she shrugged.

“Would you stop anyone from trying to get into my pants?” she asked and didn’t miss the flash of something like jealousy in his eyes.

“You’d be with me.”

“Then I say we go.” Sansa’s heart was pounding again. “Pick me up at seven?”

“More like nine.” Sandor was back to staring at the TV.

“Fine.” Sansa rose. “I’m going to go check on those milkshakes. Chocolate okay?"

* * *

Sandor didn’t let Sansa drive him home. There was no way in hell he was going to have her see where he lived, especially not after she’d shown him her mansion and walk in closet and television with every channel available to man. He’d probably find free porn on there, if he looked hard enough. It was so clean and light and airy, and his own home seemed all the worse in comparison.

He had her drop him off at the tracks, where the houses started to crumble, and walked the remaining six blocks to his place. Darkness had fallen and the chill was back in the air. The weather always seemed to tease, with three or four nice days before it plunged back into misery for a couple more weeks. He’d have to sleep inside tonight, and try to avoid his family.

At least he was full. Sansa hadn’t said anything, but he doubted that it was her usual practice to order half a fucking deli counter every day she got home. She’s pecked at it like a damn little bird or something, but he’d eaten all that he could get his hands on. At this rate, it was enough to keep him fed for a week. He paused a few houses down to belch and then reached down and grabbed some of the dirt in a neighbor’s yard. He rubbed it over his neck, trying to mask Sansa’s floral scent. He didn’t want his family asking after her.

The light was on in the living room and he approached carefully, listening. He heard the muffled chatter of the TV and his father yelling. Football or baseball or whatever. He could sneak in. Bury himself in blankets and hope like hell that he was unbothered until morning. It was a long shot, no doubt, but today seemed like enough of a miracle and he wanted to push his luck just a little bit further.

The window to the basement didn’t latch. It hadn’t for years, not since Gregor slammed it shut in a fit of anger and broke it. No one had ever bothered to fix it, so Sandor used it as a front door. It would’ve been amusing under a different set of circumstances. He eased it open and slipped his frame through. He was almost too big to fit, but tonight went smoothly and he pulled the window shut quickly behind him, watching the stairs to see if a huge frame would lumber down them.

He breathed a sigh of relief when no one did. He crept towards his bedroom, which was basically a glorified closet. But it also locked, and that was key. He got inside and shut it, locked it, and stuffed a chair under it for good measure. Not that Gregor couldn’t bash that away if he really wanted to, but it helped Sandor sleep. He shed his coat and crawled into the mess of blankets, shrugging them up over his shoulder.

He closed his eyes. He wished he wouldn’t have rubbed all the dirt over him. He wanted to still smell Sansa. It made it easier to conjure her in his minds eye if he could. But as it was, he could still remember the curve of her body as it pressed against his. He wasn’t a virgin, but she made him feel like he was. No one had ever done the things she did to him, ever.

He wondered what she’d do tomorrow. Trant was having the party and he’d invited all the usual suspects. Sandor had no idea how Sansa was going to react. It was a bit upsetting already, imagining her pristine little self walking into some beater’s trailer and listening to rock. Would she smoke? Drink? Turn up her pretty nose at them? He was snarling before he could stop himself, convinced of her intentions.

But it wasn’t like they were a real couple, were they? She’d kissed him in the closet, so what? She just wanted to use him to get back at her fucked up family. And maybe he should just use her to get a couple free meals, some rides, and maybe a chance to really see what she tasted like in those pink panties of hers. It was better not to get attached. To know his role as the junkyard dog.

But when he turned his face into the pillow and fell asleep, he dreamt that he and Sansa were sitting on a cliff, watching the sunset, and his head was in her lap as she gently played with his hair, singing softly to him.

* * *

“And why the hell aren’t you coming out tonight?” Margaery demanded from the phone. Sansa absentmindedly tapped her makeup brush against her vanity, pondering which shade of black to use on her eyes.

“I’ve got other plans.”

“With who?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“Because you’re my best friend in the entire world and we’re inseparable.”

“You ditched me three weeks ago when one of your brother’s stupid frat friends invited you to their party,” Sansa reminded her, finishing up her winged eyeliner.

“That was different. I told you where I was going,” Margaery argued and Sansa twisted the cap back on her liquid eyeliner and reached for the mascara.

“I don’t need to tell you or anyone else what I’m doing.”

“You’re sort of being a huge bitch lately,” Margaery informed her and Sansa rolled her eyes.

“I’m not being a bitch for not going to Roslin Frey’s shitty party. And I’m not being a bitch for trying to avoid getting a lecture from you, Mordy, and my parents.” except both of her parents were gone. Her father’s threat to bring home her mother had turned out to be an empty one. He was gone for some company dinner now.

“No, you’re a bitch for acting like you’re better than all of us.” Margaery hung up and Sansa briefly looked at her phone in annoyance. When was everyone going to understand that she didn’t think she was better than them? Sandor thought she looked down on his friends. Margaery thought she looked down on their friends. Sansa didn’t look down on anyone, she just wasn’t about all the bullshit.

She shook her head free of any lingering remorse and stood up, inspecting her outfit in the mirror. She’d gone to the mall specifically to get it this afternoon, since she was fairly confident that she didn’t own anything that Sandor’s friends would approve of. She was going for Madonna-esqe, which was as far into punk she dared delve.

Fishnet tights with black booties. Tight leather shorts and a studded belt. A tank top with a bunch of necklaces and some bracelets. She’d tried for edgy, dramatic makeup but as she critically inspected herself, it did seem a bit over the top. More Arya than her, really. And she’d teased her hair a bit too high. But it was too late to change any of that. She had to be to the gas station where Sandor had told her to meet him in ten minutes, and she knew it was a drive across town.

She snatched her bag and tossed a few things in it - lipstick, a few tissues, whatever else, and went downstairs. She let herself into her father’s study and to the liquor cabinet. He had a code on it and everything, but of course it was Robb’s birthday. He always was the favorite. Sansa took vodka, whisky, and the good bourbon just to spite him. Then she walked out of the house and to her car, without a second look back to the house.

She stashed the bottles in her trunk, got in the driver’s seat, and flipped her mirror down once more to inspect herself. She was sure that if she showed up to Roslin’s like this, they’d either laugh her out of the house or try to get her committed. But, she reflected as she snapped the mirror shut, she wasn’t going to Roslin Frey’s party. She was going somewhere entirely different.

* * *

Sandor leaned against the phone booth, smoking and scuffing his shoes against the concrete. The things were already getting holes in them, he might as well hasten the process. He needed new boots anyways, if he did summer work with the guys at Quiet Isle Construction. Maybe they’d give him an advance. He needed it. He’d managed to filch a couple bills from his mom’s wallet to buy shitty beer for this party.

The sound of a car made him look up. Sansa had been surprisingly okay with his suggestion that they meet in a gas station. He didn’t want her seeing his house and he didn’t want her showing up at Trant’s place in that BMW. They’d park on the nice side of town and walk. It was only a couple blocks. He reached down and grabbed his beer, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Christ am I glad it’s you,” Sansa remarked, “there’s so many drifters around here, I wasn’t sure what the hell to do.”

He wanted to answer her, he did, but he couldn’t. He could only stare in amazement at her. She was dressed so differently, and her hair was wilder than he’d ever seen it. She looked like his type. She looked better than his type. And when she turned and looked at him, those blue eyes so striking against her pale skin, he lost his entire train of thought for a few moments.

“What?” he asked her stupidly, once he realized that she’d still been talking and he’d been ignoring her entirely.

“I said, where should I go?” she asked him slowly and he blinked.

“Uh, left.”

“You’re going to have to direct me,” she reminded him, reversing the car and then leaving the gas station.

“Yeah, we’re going to Seven Suns Church. You know it?”

“Yeah, I do.” her gaze briefly flickered towards him. “You don’t seem like a big youth group kind of guy.”

“It’s a couple blocks from the party,” he explained darkly. “No body fucks with cars at church. Bad karma and shit.”

“Would anyone fuck with my car if they knew that you rode in it?” she asked him and he glanced at her before realizing she wasn’t kidding.

“They see those three letters on your hood, Stark, and you bet your ass they would. I’m not god.”

“You certainly act like it,” she quipped and he snorted. If she thought he did, she had no idea what was coming for her. “Do I, uh, look alright?”

“What?” he looked at her incredulously and she shifted, uncomfortable.

“I mean, for the night. It’s stupid. I just thought it was better than what I usually wear. So I don’t, you know, embarrass you?”

“Fuck.” he had no idea how to tell her that he was going to spend the entire night fending off advances from other guys for her. They drove beneath a street light and the car was briefly illuminated and he saw her long legs, clad in fishnets, with the tiniest pair of shorts. He squirmed in his seat, trying to hide the rush of desire at seeing her.

“That bad?” she was still worried.

“You’re fucking fine,” he said darkly and then looked out the window, wishing for a cold shower.

* * *

Sandor was avoiding looking at her, but he kept directing her to the church. Sansa was worried that he was regretting bringing her, but he never once told her to stop or let him out, so she reluctantly went with it. She got out of the car, shivering slightly in the cold air. Sandor inspected the parking lot and once he was seemingly happy with their surroundings, began walking.

“Hold on,” she called and he turned, looking back at her in confusion. “I’ve got stuff in the trunk.”

“What, you pack a fucking overnight bag?” he came back with a little huff of annoyance, but that facade slipped off the second she opened the trunk and he saw what she had inside it.

“It’s rude to show up empty-handed,” she explained preemptively as Sandor reached inside the trunk and pulled out the bourbon, staring at it in wonder.

“You know this shit costs more than I spend in a year on food, right?”

“I stole it from my dad,” she told him defensively and he appraised her for a brief moment, then grabbed the other bottles and put them in his bag.

“You’re going to be the fucking belle of the ball with this shit. C’mon.” he offered her his arm and she took it, blushing slightly. They walked together a short ways before Sandor stopped her. “Sansa.”

“Yeah?” she turned to face him and noticed with a tiny surge of happiness that he was still wearing her diamond earring.

“Aren’t you freezing?” he was looking at her bare arms in clear concern.

“I’m alright,” she bluffed, even though she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers. He gazed at her for a moment, then shed his heavy jean jacket and swept it over her shoulders.

“Don’t get chilled. Don’t need to add your death by hypothermia to my spotless record.”

“I don’t need this,” she insisted and he wrapped at arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. He smelled like smoke and deodorant, but it was a pleasant smell on him.

“Quit chirping like a little bird, alright? Wear the damn coat.”

“Alright,” she said softly and tightened it around herself. It felt good to be in his clothes. It was like a little shield around her. And his huge form next to her was a great thing as well. She walked towards the party with a happy, light heart and tried to ignore the fact that the houses around them were slowly getting shabbier and shabbier.

Sandor guided her to a gray one that was in a slightly better state than it’s neighbors, but still bore peeling paint, a few missing shutters, a sagging porch, and a yard overgrown with weeds. She could hear, even from the sidewalk, the loud music from inside. A few beer bottles already littered the approach. Sandor looked at her, his grey eyes full of something she could describe as apprehension.

“Ready?” he asked her and she knew it wasn’t just if she wanted to go inside. It was a much more loaded question.

“Yeah, I am.” she took his hand and gave him what she hoped was a bright smile. He took her hand and led her inside, while she tried to take deep breaths.

* * *

He eased them into the party, gaze sweeping left and right to make sure that no one was paying too close attention to Sansa. She was walking close behind him and he was willing to bet that if he looked back at her, those blue eyes would be as wide as the moon. He wanted to press his face to her neck, to see how fast her heart was beating. He wanted to do a lot of things to her.

“Clegane!” the yell went through the entire house. It seemed that most people were congregated in the living room, so that’s where he led Sansa. Bottles were strewn all over, and a joint was already being rolled and passed. Trant, wasted, rose and clasped him in a hug. Sandor fended off most of it, moving protectively in front of Sansa. “Glad you’re fucking here man, this asshole is saying that Metallica is better than AC/DC.”

“I did not,” the other man argued, “I said that they weren’t shit compared to Kiss!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” yelled another partygoer and in the ensuing chaos, Sandor led Sansa to a quieter corner. She was silent, looking around and taking it in. He quickly found a cup and made her a strong drink, pressing it into her hands. She murmured her thanks, then took a deep drink from it. Sandor made one for himself and stashed their booze away. He guided her to a couch where they both sat, just in time to receive the joint being passed around.

“Thanks,” he muttered to the guy next to him, taking a strong hit off it. He passed it to Sansa with a bit of hesitation, but she took it and smoked, then passed it along without batting an eye. He snorted slightly, but when she looked at him, covered it up by taking a long drink.

“Does no one know who I am?” she asked him quietly and he glanced around. A few people here were from school; Trant, the Kettleblack brothers, Swann, Blount, and a couple others. Either they were so wasted they were beyond functioning, or none of them had imagined seeing Sansa Stark here, dressed like this, on the arm of Sandor Clegane.

“Maybe,” he said casually, watching her reaction. He might’ve expected her to throw a fit, pout a bit, or at the very least, be offended. She wasn’t however; the news seemed to relax her more than anything. He wondered if she was embarrassed about being seen with him. But before he could rile himself up, Sansa gently shouldered her way up and under his arm, nudging herself closer to him. And she still hadn’t taken off his jean jacket.

He scooted himself closer to her carefully, in case this was all a fluke. But then Sansa placed her hand on his knee and gave it an ever so light squeeze, looking at the conversations rather than him. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in an irregular beat and his body felt like it was on fire, especially whenever Sansa shifted and brushed against him. He took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control, tuning into the nearest conversation.

“— and I’m just saying that if you think Madonna is the future of music, you’re a fucking pussy.”

Good, focus on that and not Sansa. He jumped into the conversation with gusto, drinking heavily and trying to ignore the fact that Sansa was now resting her head in the nook of his shoulder and neck, somehow fitting so perfectly there it was like he was built entirely for her comfort.

* * *

Sansa was drunk. She was very drunk. In fact, the last time she’d been this drunk had been Robb’s birthday party when he’d gotten a hotel room in the city and she’d gone with some friends. But that party had been relatively tame compared to this one. She hadn’t taken shots of tequila yet, but she’d smoked and drank more than she was use to.

She reached up and gently tugged on Sandor’s flannel. He was busy arguing with people over the music but the second she got his attention, he looked down at her with a brief flicker of devoted attention.

“Can we go outside?”

“Why — oh.” he spotted the empty drink in her hand and smiled. “Yeah, c’mon.” he helped her up and guided her over the messy floor. He brought her to a tiny deck off the back of the house. Sansa took a deep breath of the cool night air and now, when she was a few drinks too deep, the air felt bracing rather than chilly. 

“Thank you,” she told him, sure to remember her manners. He was watching her with a curious expression as she leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Are you mad if I am?” she asked him and he shook his head.

“Why would I be mad about that?”

“I don’t know.” she played with the holes in her stockings. “I don’t know you.”

“But you’re here.”

“I’m having a good time,” she told him and his eyebrows rose. “At least, I don’t hate it.”

“You can leave anytime you want,” he reminded her and she tossed her head.

“Why would I leave?”

“Because I ruin every good thing that happens to me.” his grey eyes were locked with hers and she shifted, uncomfortable with the intensity of the moment.

“And this is a good thing?” she asked him, bluffing with an offhandedness that she didn’t feel.

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t even know what the hell this is,” she admitted slowly. “If you’re using me or I’m using you or if it’s something else entirely.”

“You want to know what this is?” she couldn’t see his face well in the dark, but she heard the same dangerous note in it that she’d heard a week ago in the library. She swallowed, hard, and answered.

“I do.”

* * *

Sandor crossed the deck in two long strides, practically crashing into Sansa. He grabbed her jaw and brought her face up so that he could kiss her, deeply. Sansa was obviously taken aback by the gesture, but a second later she relaxed into his arms and kissed him back. She tasted like the whiskey and smoke and he pulled her closer to him. She was still wearing his jacket, but he managed to snake an arm around her waist.

She was a good kisser, but the sort that hadn’t done it much. A bit anxious, a bit gentle, a bit hesitant. Sandor was happy taking the lead with her, especially when she opened her mouth slightly. He tried to keep his hands from roaming too far, stopping himself when she gasped slightly.

The kiss didn’t last long enough; just like she had outside the school, Sansa broke it off. She pulled away and he couldn’t help but try to follow her. He needed her to feel like he could breathe. She was the solar system and he was a spinning, anchor-less moon. It was impossible not get swept up and follow in her orbit, especially when she reached over and caught his hand.

“That’s not an answer.” did his ears deceive him, or did he hear a bit of lingering desire in her voice?

“It’s whatever the fuck you want it to be, little bird.” he was struggling not to kiss her again. He wanted every inch of her.

“What if I want to be your girlfriend?” a challenge note slipped in then. “You said one girl isn’t for you.”

“Fuck, Sansa.” he took a step back and saw, in the flickering light, the hesitation and fragility on her face. “You don’t want to be my girlfriend. That’s a shitty fucking question to ask.”

“Maybe I do.” she crossed her arms. “You don’t know.”

“I do know.” he started to pace, rage coursing through his veins. “You just want to use me. I told you that, in the fucking broom closet! This was all to get back at your parents!”

“You told me that, asshole, I didn’t tell you,” she corrected him, annoyed. “You always put words in my mouth.”

“Because I know your intentions!”

“You don’t know shit.” Sansa crossed her arms. He did his damndest not to look at what that did for her cleavage. “Last Saturday, I bet you would’ve said that I’d never come to one of these parties, or kiss you, or invite you over to my house. Except I’ve done all of those things, and you’re the one over here acting like the only reason why I’d want you is because you’ll piss of my dad. Well, news flash you dick, I could have any guy come to my house and fuck me to make my dad mad. But I don’t!”

“Why’s that?” he taunted, unable to stop himself. “Perfect, pretty little Sansa saving herself for her someone special?”

“Yes.” she had no shame in it. “But I’m not going to let you make me feel bad about it. Especially not when I know you want to fuck me.”

“Jesus.” he stared at her in shock. He never expected something like that out of her mouth, much less said with a smirk. She gazed levelly at him, refusing to be intimidated and he stopped pacing in front of her.

“I know you want me Sandor. I just don’t know what the hell for. And I’m fine if I don’t know, but I was told not to break your heart. So when you decide if you want to fuck me for bragging rights or because you love me, let me know. Because I like you, and not because you piss off my dad.” she walked past him inside, and he would be damned if he didn’t watch her go the entire time.

* * *

She was less drunk after the deck conversation with Sandor, but she didn’t mind sobering up a little. The party around her was growing crazier, so Sansa could easily shrink back into the wall and watch. It had surprised her, a little, that no one had noticed who she was. But she didn’t mind this, really. She was always the center of attention at other parties, like a spotlight followed her around. Here, she was no one. And it was actually kind of nice.

“Hey.” some guy slid up next to her, smelling strongly of vodka. Sansa recoiled a bit but held her ground, trying to maneuver her cup between them. “You look hot.”

“Thank you.” Sansa wondered if she could hurdle the couch. “I’m, uh, here with someone.”

“Look alone to me.” he had a bit of a leering smile and she took another step back. Any further and she’d be in the pile of beer cans, but that was more appealing than him.

“Look again.” before she could take another step back, Sandor was there, one arm wrapping around her shoulders. His broad chest pressed against her back, and she knew without looking up at him that those grey eyes would be flashing.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean anything.” the guy put his hands up and began backing away slowly, but Sandor didn’t seem impressed. And he didn’t let Sansa go until the man was well out of sight.

“You alright?” his breath was hot in her ear.

“Yeah,” she muttered back quietly. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t know who the fuck that asshole thinks he is.” Sandor kept a tight grip on her, walking her away from the chaos and towards the door.

“Are we going?”

“Do you want to?” he glanced down at her and Sansa hesitated.

“It’s your party.”

“So?” he finished swilling his beer. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay.” with a tiny sigh of relief, she let him tug her out of the house and back into the cold air. The second they shut the door behind them, the noise level dropped significantly. Sansa could actually hear herself think again and she looked up at Sandor. She wondered if she’d pushed him too far out on the deck. But she did want answers, and she was fine waiting on him for a bit. But not forever. And she did think that a relationship was meant to be singular.

“You wanna go home?” he looked down at her and tugged his jacket so that the collar skimmed the bottom of her chin.

“I can’t go home, I’m too wasted to drive,” she laughed and he laughed then with her.

“Now what?” he didn’t seem too upset and so she leaned in close.

“You tell me. Aren’t you sort of the expert at roaming the street at all hours of the night?”

“Yeah.” he squeezed her hand. “C’mon, I know what we can do.”

* * *

He truly didn’t think Sansa was going to like his idea. He thought she’d brush it off, ignore it, and keep walking. But she seemed to enjoy herself, if her laying against his chest was anything to go off of. The car warmed up quickly with the two of them tangled together in the backseat, a blanket Sansa had found in the trunk over them. Sansa was humming something he couldn’t quite make out as she played with the fraying edges of his fingerless gloves.

“Do you do this often?” she asked.

“Don’t usually have a car,” he revealed and she was quiet. That wasn’t quite the truth - he’d had sex with plenty of girls in the backseat of cars. But he’d never cuddled, for lack of better words, in the back of one. He didn’t want to rush things with Sansa. After their fight-discussion-revelation on the deck, he was even more confused as to where they stood.

“Do we just wait for the sun to come up, or what?” she began to pull the glove off and he let her, mostly because he was actually very comfortable and didn’t want to move.

“When are you going to be sober enough to drive?”

“Fine.” she giggled and got his palm free. She started tracing patterns on his fingers and palm; it sort of tickled but felt good, in an odd way. “Do you think tonight went well?”

“What?” he craned his neck to try and get a look at her.

“Went well,” Sansa repeated, then clarified. “Would you do it over again?”

“Fuck.” he leaned back and rested his head against the glass. “Is this what you do after parties? Dissect every moment? Lay it all out, fit it together, make it into the narrative that the school hears Monday morning?”

“No,” she mumbled, but a bit sullenly.

“So yes,” he corrected, unable to resist the urge to prod her. “So what’s it going to be Sansa? What’s the story we’re going to tell Monday morning?”

“I don’t think anyone in there knew who I was,” she said lightly, skirting the actual question. What story were they going to tell on Monday? To themselves, to their friends, to the entire school? Her words on the porch kept rattling through his brain, her comments about not wanting him just to piss off her dad. Why the hell else would she want him? For his bright and cheery disposition? For his wealth and shining future? For his welcoming and affectionate family? Her wanting a fuck up to piss off her absent parents, that was the only narrative that could be ascribed to this relationship. Wasn’t it?

“Probably not. I didn’t even recognize you.”

“Did you like it?” her voice was quiet again, the hesitant sort. “I mean, did you like how I dressed? I didn’t think you’d like if I wore my normal clothes, so I tried to fit in a little bit more.”

He had no idea how to tell her that he didn’t care if she was dressed up like a Barbie or a wannabe punk. He didn’t know how to explain that she was perfect, unbelievably sexy no matter what, and like a gift he wasn’t sure was his to touch. So instead he pulled her up into his chest so that he could kiss her, and spend the rest of the night trying to keep himself from going too far.

* * *

Sansa woke up in her bed on Sunday morning feeling a bit conflicted. Her head was pounding in the same way that it did when she had a raging hangover, but for some reason she felt warm and cozy, utterly happy and content. It took her a second to remember why that was. She’d slept in a car last night, gotten home at the crack of dawn, and had drank like a middle aged trucker.

But she’d been with Sandor. In the car, things had gotten hot for a moment. The way he kissed her had made her head spin. He held her gently, like he was scared he was going to break her but his kisses had a hard edge to them. He never pushed her beyond what she wanted to give. But Sansa had wanted more and that had scared her. Every time either of them shifted, confined by the cramped quarters of the car, a shot of desire went through her.

She’d fallen asleep on his chest, listening to his heartbeat through the soft flannel of his shirt. His breath tickled the hair on her temple as she dozed. She’d woken up to one of his hands tangled up into her hair and the other on her ass. It oddly comforted her. She’d dropped him off, still half asleep, before sneaking in and falling back asleep in her own bed, still in his jacket.

She rose out of bed, winching and pressing a hand to her head. She stood in front of the mirror on her vanity, looking at herself critically. Pale, drawn, skin dry and angry after the night. She wanted to rinse all her makeup off and let her hair find some relief. She stripped, tossing her clothes towards the hamper, and went to try to steam the remaining alcohol from her system.

She came out in two towels; one wrapping her hair up onto the top of her head, while the other wrapped around her body. She sat down before the vanity again, ready to apply creams and moisturizer when she spotted the hickeys on her neck. One, a bit large, below her left ear. And a small one, right in the hollow of her right collarbone. She prodded them gently, smiling at the memory of Sandor’s hot breath on her skin. She was blushing at the pleasure the memory brought her when her phone rang.

“Sansa?”

“Hi Marg.”

“Where the hell were you? You missed everything this weekend.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll catch me up.” Sansa inspected her nails. She could really use a new coat. Maybe black this time. A little bit punk, for Sandor.

“Well, duh. If you’re going to be all weird and mysterious, the least you can do is listen when I tell you that the Lannister twins need to die, and I say that with zero dramatics.”

“Zero dramatics,” Sansa echoed, going to riffle through her nail polish drawer. The closest she had to black was actually a red so dark it seemed black, but somehow that seemed even more fitting.

“I swear to God, Sansa, if they name her prom queen, I will Carrie a bitch, and you’re helping me.”

* * *

Fuck, he was colder than he usually was. Why was that? He lifted a groggy eyelid, trying to figure out why. After a few more moments of sleepy bewilderment, he realized that he was in the shed. He must’ve stumbled in here after Sansa dropped him off a few blocks away. The sun was up, casting weak rays on the foot of his makeshift cot, but not bringing any heat. Spring was such a shit season.

He sat up and wrapped his arms around himself. That was the second reason - he was missing his coat. The jean jacket he’d gotten at a hefty five fingered discount from the local thrift store, the one thing that he actually liked. For a brief second, he cussed himself out for forgetting it at some stupid party before he remembered that he hadn’t lost it. He’d given it up.

Sansa had looked so cold last night. Wearing those clothes she thought would impress him, going without a jacket because she thought it would look better or some shit. He personally didn’t think that there was any point in not wearing a coat, especially now, but girls were strange like that. And besides, she looked pretty damn adorable in the thing. It was hard not to think that she was adorable all the fucking time.

Christ, he realized. He was going soft over the girl. He got up and threw his blankets in a pile, resolving to straighten himself up. No more thinking soft thoughts on account of her. He had shit to do, the first being that he needed a shower and he was about to miss the window where both his father and brother were asleep after a night of drinking, and his mom was still gone getting the weekly groceries before some sport was put on the TV to be screamed at while drinking all the more.

He eased himself out of the shed and across the still frosty ground. He just wanted it to warm up enough where he could be out here full time and not worry about it. He let himself into the house and went quickly to the back bathroom, the one furthest from the bedrooms. The water never really warmed up and there was a hole in the drywall where Gregor had punched it, but it served it’s purpose.

He showered in the lukewarm water, scrubbing his hair and body both with the discount soup his mom had bought in bulk then scampered out and brought his clothes to his room. He could use clean laundry. He piled everything off his floor into a sac and set it by the door, carefully navigating into the living room. He paused by Gregor’s bedroom door to be reassured by the deep, heavy snores, then went to the couch.

He scrounged between the cushions for change, slipping it into his pocket until he was satisfied with the amount and then snuck into the kitchen. There wasn’t ever much left by Sunday morning, but he managed to make a tuna sandwich and swipe half a jar of peanut butter half forgotten in the back. Not enough to even begin to fill his belly, but it was a start. He thought of Sansa’s fully stocked kitchen and was half tempted to show up at her house again under some guise or another.

He reviewed the night as he walked to the laundromat, his sack of clothes bouncing off his back as he went. There wasn’t much he remembered but Sansa. Her smile in the car, shy but excited. The way she’d rested her head against him, quiet and content to be by his side the whole night. That kiss on the porch - after she told him that this was something - and all those kisses in the car.

He shoved the entire load into a machine and paid, reflecting that he was maybe in over his head on this one, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it any other way.


	2. Week Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well the reviews made me cry so 
> 
> also i said this was long and i meant it
> 
> all the love and support is everything friends i am so glad to be back posting and interacting again so thank you so much!!

Sansa looked at the clock, idly drumming her fingers on the desk. It seemed to be moving even slower than usual, the hands ticking ever so lazily in full circles. It was tormenting her, as the class went on. She’d already finished the assignment and turned it in. Now she sat and waited, ignoring Jeyne’s best attempts to try and chat with her. So what if some girl had hooked up with a bunch of guys?

The bell rang and Sansa scrambled to shove everything into her backpack, leaping out of her desk and going for the door. Distantly, behind her, she could hear Jeyne calling out for her, wondering what she was doing. Sansa ignored her, shouldering her way through the crowds and trying to get towards the doors leading to the parking lot. A few people gave her strange looks, clearly wondering what she was doing, but Sansa ignored them, bursting out into the still cold spring air.

Sandor was exactly where she thought he’d be. Sitting on one of the tables under the bleachers, smoking. He had a few guys around him, but Sansa ignored the thrill of fear they sent into her heart. This weekend she’d been with Sandor and he’d chosen her over them. She walked towards them with purpose and one looked up, spotting her. He nudged the rest and Sandor looked up, panic flashing across his face.

"Fuck." Sandor jumped off the bench before she could get anywhere near them. He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her away, towards another table where no one would be able to hear them. "What the hell are you doing?" 

"Nothing." she wrenched her arm free of him, annoyed. So when she was dressed up in the appropriate clothes and looked like a nobody, she could be seen with him? But when she was in her normal clothes, with less makeup and nice hair, then he was ashamed of her? "I brought you lunch." 

"You what?" he stared at her in bewilderment. She huffed and opened her backpack, pulling the two lunches out. She thrust Sandor's at him. 

"I asked Mordy to make two. Don't worry, it's not sushi." 

"What?" he still seemed bewildered, opening it up. Sansa knew that it was almost double her own lunch; two bananas instead of one, two bags of chips, three homemade molasses cookies, and a large sandwich instead of Sansa's customary salad. 

"You're welcome." she went to walk away, pride still smarting. 

"Wait, Sansa." he was still holding the lunch out, like he half expected her to snatch it away. "Why?"

Sansa looked at him, struggling with what to say. She wanted to tell him that she saw his hungry eyes, the way he'd looked at her sushi with disgust but also a bit of longing. How she never saw him with any snacks or food ever, how he'd eaten almost an entire pizza and still was hungry. But she knew better than that. So she shrugged and told him, 

"Someone should eat all the shit my fridge is stocked with. And the prom queen can't gain weight."

"Are you gonna eat with me?" he asked her and she paused, glancing back at his friends. They weren't looking at them, but Sansa was sure they'd been staring outright before. 

"Do you want me to?" 

"I don't not," he said quietly. 

* * *

He stared at Sansa, still half shocked. She was wearing a warm sweater and a pleated skirt. She looked soft and cozy. And she had given him a lunch. He couldn't make up his mind on that yet; part of him was affronted that she clearly saw him as a charity case. But the other part of him - the starving part - was glad that she'd done it. That she was taking care of him. 

"Alright," she said slowly, sitting down at the picnic table and pulling out her own lunch. A scaled down version of his own, with far healthier options. A little salad to nibble at. A small cookie that she set aside. An apple. She primly unwrapped a fork and began spearing the leafy greens, taking small, tidy bites. He unwrapped the sandwich and did everything to not shove it all in his mouth at once. 

"You like that shit?" he asked her, between bites. She glanced up at him, then followed his gaze to her salad. He didn't understand how anyone could get full from that rabbit food. 

"It's good for you," she told him and he shrugged. 

"I'd have to eat ten of those to get full." 

"Hence the sandwich." a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she navigated getting a bit of chicken on the fork. It made him wonder - had she been in charge of what went into this lunch? Had she planned it, assembled it, and brought it? He thought it was unlikely, but the idea did bring him a bit of joy. 

"You didn't have to do this." he had saved the words until he had a chance to actually eat something, in case she took him at face value and wanted it back. But instead she gave another little shrug. 

"Mordy throws half this stuff out anyways. She keeps buying groceries like Robb lives here but he doesn't, so it all goes to waste." 

"Robb." the name sounded familiar. "Older brother." 

"Yeah, he just graduated college." for some reason, she looked glum. "He lives in the city now." 

"How old?" god, what he wouldn't give for Gregor to move out. His father was an asshole and drunk, but Gregor was a terror unlike any other. 

"23." Sansa herself was 16 or 17 he knew. It seemed like a big gap between children. Before he could even ask, she explained it herself. "My parents only really wanted him, I think. He is the golden child. Does everything right. I'm.... An afterthought." 

"You don't seem like one." how anyone could ignore her was beyond him. 

"Trust me, you haven't seen my parents with Robb in the room," she stated with a shake of her head. "I might as well be a trashcan or something." she brushed her hair back away from her face and he froze. 

There, on her neck, was an unmistakable hickey. One he gave her. In the car, on Saturday night, when he had to restrain every inch of himself. He'd tried to hold it back but Sansa didn't make it easy. She had a way of breathing; a little hitch right before he kissed her, a tiny sigh whenever he didn't. It drove him crazy. And now, here she was, sitting across from him as walking proof that he didn't know how to handle things gently. 

* * *

Sandor had gone oddly quiet at the mention of her brother, so Sansa shut up as well. She knew he had a brother, since that had been part of his rant against Sam's so called perfect life. A dad who thought he was worthless, a brother who thought he was a punching bag. At the time, she'd thought it little more than dramatics. After all, he was the boy who'd walked into detention and promptly began annoying her for no reason at all. But now she wasn't sure. 

He'd told Gendry that his scar was from his brother. Sansa had heard all the rumors - it was self inflicted, it was a birth defect, it was an accident - but now she wondered if he'd told them all the truth, albeit in a scoffing tone that made her think she wasn't to take him seriously. She glanced up at him, since he was avoiding her eyes. He'd eaten the entire sandwich, both bananas, and was now pouring the last crumbs from the second bag of chips into his mouth. 

"So," she ventured carefully, "I still have your jacket." 

"Yeah." he gave the bag another little shake and then, satisfied that it was completely empty, set it down and went for the cookies. 

"Do you want it back?" it was still hanging on the back of her vanity's chair. She'd nearly pulled it on this morning, but thought better of it. It would surely get her too many questions. 

"Sure." he gave her a puzzled look and she blushed despite herself. 

"I'll bring it tomorrow. And, uh, lunch again. If you'd like." 

"Yeah." he swallowed one cookie. "These are really good." 

"Homemade." she smiled. "Mordy makes the best sweets. Her cooking can be a little so-so, but her baking is great. When I was little, I would bring it to school bake sales and pretend my mom made it." 

"She back yet?" he wasn't even done with his second cookie and he already had the third ready. 

"No." Sansa preemptively moved her cookie out of his reach and thought she saw a flicker of amusement behind his eyes. "No idea when she will be either." 

"You care?" grey eyes locked onto hers. 

"No. I don't care about anything," she said boldly and his mouth twitched. 

"Yeah?" he cocked his head and she swallowed hard. This challenging tone was almost always followed by something that made her gasp. "Kiss me then. Right now." 

"So you can tell your friends that you're doing me?" she glared at him and he raised one eyebrow. 

"No, because I want to kiss you right now and I'm not sure I can stop myself." 

All of Sansa's breath deserted her. She stared at him, frozen. She didn't know if she should tell him yes or no, if she should kiss him or run, think about all the gossip that would come from this moment or prove to herself that she really, really didn't care about anything at all. Sandor's face was close to hers, so that if she wanted to kiss him, she could. And as she felt like she was going to pass out, she realized she did. She wanted to kiss him. 

She leaned forward before the thought of consequences could stop her and kissed him. He still had the sugar from Mordy's cookies on his lips, making him sweet. Just like it had when she'd kissed him in the car, her whole body went warm, especially when he cupped the back of her head to draw her in closer. She was lost until his tongue darted out to touch her lip and she remembered this wasn't a car under the cover of night. 

She stood abruptly, smoothed down her skirt, and fled. 

It wasn't until she'd gotten back into the school that she realized she'd forgotten her cookie behind. 

* * *

A full sized semi could've smashed into Sandor and he wouldn't have taken note. 

He somehow got through the rest of the school day, shoving aside smaller students without once breaking his train of thought about kissing Sansa Stark. It was getting harder and harder to keep an accurate count of the best kisses of his life when she was determinedly wiping out the competition with each and every one. After she'd ran away, he hadn't even gone back to his friends. He'd gotten up and walked away, because he had been speechless the entire time. 

He had no idea what to do with the girl. 

"Clegane? Er, Sandor?" Sam sounded like he was worried Sandor was going to swing a 2x4 at his head. 

"Yeah," he grunted, finishing up the cut and shutting the saw off. He'd been lost in his thoughts about Sansa, again, and it was a miracle he hadn't lost a finger. 

"We can leave now." 

“Yeah.” Sandor took off his glasses and tossed them aside. They cleaned up in mostly silence, until Sam cautiously ventured in friendly conversation again.

“You, uh, have a good weekend?”

“Grand.” he thought of Sansa, the curve of her ass in those shorts and the way she pouted a bit whenever he gave her water instead of more booze. “You?”

“Yeah, it was fine.” Sam looked surprised to have even gotten this far in the conversation. “I, uh, played Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nice, man.” Sandor didn’t mock him for it. Why should he? Clearly it made him happy. Sandor was beginning to understand what it was like, having something that made him happy inside. He wanted to protect it, a light and delicate thing. He figured Sam got enough hell for the person he looked like, let alone the things he liked. Sansa had him feeling all sorts of weird.

“What’d you do?” Sam grabbed his coat as Sandor started walking out.

“Nothing I can tell you.” he thought about kissing Sansa at lunch today. He knew the Kettleblack brothers had seen it and they gossiped with the best of them. How soon until the school found out?

“Yeah, no, I get that.” Sam was clearly unsure what to say, but Sandor wouldn’t have minded if they’d shut up by now. He was ready for quiet. He had too much to think about. “I’m sure you, uh, had parties. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” Sandor echoed, still thinking about Sansa.

* * *

She looked at Sandor’s jacket, folded over her arms. She’d washed it - or more accurately, had Mordy wash it - so it was clean and smelled faintly like the lavender fabric softener she used. She had put it on three or four times already and then taken it back off. She couldn’t help herself; she wanted to see what it would be like to walk into school wearing it. Would anyone know? She doubted it.

She settled for shoving it in her backpack and heading out for school. She had another lunch packed for Sandor and all her homework. They were suppose to have another prom committee meeting tonight, but Sansa couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do less. She drove to school, thinking about Sandor and the kiss. Would he kiss her again, when she handed the jacket back? The thought made her stomach flip.

She walked into school, absentmindedly humming the Pat Benatar she’d had blaring on the radio. It seemed to her, as she walked, that there were a few extra eyes turned her way, but it didn’t faze her much. They were probably looking at her because of prom, wondering if she or Margaery was going to take the crown. It was all ridiculous, if you thought about it.

“Sansa!” Jeyne came flying towards her; she skidded on the tile floor with wet shoes and Sansa had to catch her before she crashed into her.

“Jesus. What?” Sansa looked at her in concern. Clearly someone must have died to warrant this amount of exuberance.

“There are some horrible rumors going around about you.” Jeyne’s face was pale. Sansa’s stomach gave an unpleasant turn. Freshman year she’d made one of the senior girls mad when her boyfriend talked to Sansa at a football game and started telling everyone that she was pregnant. It’d taken Robb stepping in with some of his old friends to get it to stop.

“What?” her heart felt like it was beating against her esophagus.

“You kissed….” Jeyne looked ready to cry for her. “Clegane. Sandor Clegane.”

“What?” Sansa repeated and her voice sounded hollow to her ears.

“I know.” Jeyne was petting her hair as though Sansa needed comfort. “I know, it’s crazy. Apparently one of the Kettleblack kids is going around and saying that you two were kissing under the bleachers at lunch yesterday. I’ve been telling everyone that it’s not true but you know how fast shit travels in this school.”

“Yeah.” Sansa snapped out of it, stopping Jeyne from rubbing her back. “Fast.”

“What are you going to do?” Jeyne asked, wringing her hands. “About the rumor?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa told her truthfully. She wondered if Sandor knew yet. More importantly, she wondered what he thought. Embarrassed? Happy? He’d been the one to kiss her, so he couldn’t be too mad. She wasn’t even sure how she felt.

“Well if you need someone to cover if you want to go hide in the bathroom, I can,” Jeyne offered and Sansa’s lips twitched. And to think she was thinking about wearing his jacket to school yet this morning.

“I’ll be okay.”

* * *

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?” he didn’t look at Sansa until she put two things on the table. His jean jacket and a brown paper bag exactly like the one she’d brought yesterday that contained his lunch.

“Have you heard the rumors?”

“Which one?” he set the bag aside and pulled the coat on. It smelled funny. Flowery, like Sansa. And it was clean. Even the grease stain on the elbow was gone.

“The one that Asha Greyjoy is secretly a boy.”

“Really?” he looked up at her in interest and Sansa scowled.

“No. The one that we kissed yesterday.” she sat down beside him. “Which, is a rumor still a rumor if it’s true?”

“Fuck if I know, I didn’t take philosophy.” he peeked inside the bag, wondering what she brought him. It looked like more chips and a sandwich. Hopefully more cookies. He’d dreamt about those cookies last night.

“Sandor.” Sansa reached over and took his hand. He nearly jumped, especially when her thumb began to gently rub back and forth over his knuckles. “Are you okay?”

“Why?” he eyed her, wondering what was going on her with. She seemed a bit strange, with a glint in her eye that he had last seen when she’d showed him how she could apply lipstick.

“The rumors,” she said, as though it should be obvious.

“Who gives a fuck?” he was resisting the urge to open the bag of chips.

“Do we?” she was watching him, her blue eyes intense. He wanted to kiss her again. Being surrounded by her smell was reminding him of her in that car and it was distracting.

“Sansa.” he gave her an exasperated look. She was sitting there prim and proper, with her coat zippered and buttoned, her bag hanging off one shoulder. She looked so pretty, with her hair pulled back from her face and tied with a ribbon that almost matched her eyes. He could see why no one could believe that she would kiss him.

“Sandor.” she replied easily and his mouth twitched. She didn’t put up with his bullshit. It was refreshing. “We have to talk about it.”

“Says who?” he challenged, expecting her to respond with her friends, the entire school, society as a whole. Instead she shrugged and replied,

“We could sit in silence and never discuss anything. That’s what my parents do and their marriage is perfect.”

“Fuck.” he sighed and looked at her, really looked at her. The prettiest, brightest, shiniest girl in the entire school. Sitting here, worried about him. He leaned forward and kissed her again, just because he could. “That’s what I think about that, okay?”

“Okay.” she leaned in and gave him another kiss and when she pulled back, she was smiling.

* * *

"Sansa!" Gendry caught her by the elbow before she could walk into lunch. She figured she'd eat inside today, to avoid fueling rumors. And she needed to get her French homework done. 

"Hi." she gave him an odd look; he seemed a bit upset. 

"Have you heard?" he pulled her into a corner, away from the bustling crowd. "The rumors?" 

"Jesus." she rolled her eyes. "This school." 

"Are they true?" he searched her face quizzically. For half a wild second, she wondered if Margaery had been right all along and he did have a crush on her. 

"Why do you care?" 

"Because...." he took a little step back and ran his hands through his hair. "Because if people are nuts over you and Clegane, than Arya and I...." 

"Oh." now she understood. He wanted to use her as a test, a gauge for the school's reaction. If people were assholes about the prom queen and the criminal, they'd be assholes about the athlete and the basket case. "Are you guys....?" 

"I don't know." he leaned against the wall, brooding. "She's not exactly the type to say yes to a date and come home to meet the parents, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." she thought about Sandor about to kiss her in front of her father. Mordy's evident horror at him in the kitchen and her room. She wondered what Robb would think, if he ever got a chance to meet him. "And yeah, it is true." 

"It is?" he perked up. "Who saw?" 

"His friends," she admitted and Gendry nodded, lost in thought. "But everyone's treating it like a rumor." 

"And you're not correcting them?" he gave her a knowing look. 

"How should I correct people when I don't really even know what things are?" she pointed out and he nodded. 

"Well, good luck." he clapped her shoulder and she about buckled. "You know I'm here for you if you need it." 

"Thanks." she patted his cheek. "And same for you and her, okay?" 

"Thanks," he chuckled. "Maybe we should all go out sometime, to the city where no one knows us. It'd make it easier, wouldn't it?" 

"It would," she replied thoughtfully. That might be fun. A little less pressure with another couple there, no one who felt like a third wheel, and no prying eyes of several friend groups. They might actually enjoy themselves. 

"Okay, well, chin up, tell everyone to fuck off," he advised and she chuckled, waving him away. 

She walked into the lunch room and saw Margaery at their customary table, head on a swivel, doubtlessly looking for her. Sansa sighed and crossed the cafeteria, wondering if it was too late to go find Sandor outside and keep avoiding everyone. 

* * *

He'd told Sansa that he didn't give a fuck what anyone thought. And that held true. Mostly. He didn't give a fuck what they thought, but he sure did wonder what was being said around the school about him, Sansa, and their rumored kiss together. If it was positive or negative, believed eagerly or scoffed at. 

Usually he'd take advantage of the narrative. He'd swagger through the halls, never bothering to deny them. Let everyone think he was getting it from the prom queen. Laugh in her face, ignore any damage that this might do to her reputation, because what the hell did he care if it was making things better for him? Hell, he probably was the one starting it, because what wasn't funny about something as unbelievable as him and the queen bee. 

Except this girl was Sansa. He knew Sansa - he liked Sansa. The first few hours of detention, he had just been trying to piss her off. Tried to get a rise out of her just to see if he could. And he had, except she was nothing like he assumed. He had seen her vulnerable. Imperfect. Angry and sad and laughing and high. He kept trying to get a rise out of her because that seemed like the only way to get, and keep, her attention. 

But here they were a week later and everything was upside down. She'd kissed him in public, more than once, and she was worried about how he felt, not how the entire school thought of them. The Sandor Clegane who walked into detention on that Saturday never would've believed it. That was impossible. He was so far out of her league he couldn't even dream about her. He still felt like that, even as he conjured up the memory of her lips on his skin. 

"Hey." Arya's voice was what drew him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her, quirking an eyebrow. 

"Hey," he said slowly and she plopped down at his feet, ignoring the dirty pavement. 

"You kissed Sansa." 

"Word spreads faster than flu here," he observed, going back to picking loose threads off his shirt. "Especially if you've heard it." 

"You're hiding," she stated and he eyed her. Sometimes he felt that Arya certainly understood him better than Sansa. 

"Is she?" he asked before he could help himself. He was too much of a coward to go inside and see what Sansa was facing. He couldn't handle watching her be ridiculed and mocked, and knowing he was the cause of it. It only reinforced his surety that this could only be bad for her in the long run. That the only way they made sense is if he was her poor choice, her rebellious act of defiance. 

"Nope." Arya was trying to corral the ants using another one of her seemingly innumerable pixie sticks. "She hasn't even been knocked off her pretty pedestal." 

"No one believes it's true anyways," he remarked bitterly, leaning back and Arya gave a little shrug. 

"She's not denying it." 

"So?" he looked at her, wondering why that was important. She probably was just rising above or whatever bullshit. 

"Wouldn't you think she would if you were something to be ashamed of?" Arya's eyes had a sad look in them and he wondered if she'd even spoken to Gendry since detention or if the kid had gone back to his teammates and cheerleaders. He hoped not, for her sake. 

"I am something to be ashamed of," he told her, a bit harshly, and Arya shrugged, goading the ants to the top of her sugar mountain. 

"Tell that to the hickies on her neck she doesn't cover." 

* * *

"We have to talk." Margaery slammed the binder of prom plans down in front of her. Sansa looked up, exasperated. 

"You too? I think the whole school has tried to talk to me today." 

"I am your best friend and you've been avoiding me all day." 

"I have not." Sansa had though, sitting on the opposite side of the classes they shared together, doing her homework solo at lunch, ducking through the halls between periods to not have to talk to her. But the prom committee was only 26 people. There was nowhere to hide from her here. 

"What the hell is going on?" Margaery hissed, opening the binder to give the pretense that they were working. They weren't really; most of the planning had been done in the weeks before this, but now they were in charge of figuring out how they were going to get it all set up. "Why would anyone start that rumor? Why aren't you freaking out? God knows I would be if someone thought I let a creep like that get anywhere near me." 

"You are being dramatic," Sansa told her, a bit harshly, but Margaery seemingly ignored her. 

"I mean, seriously, him? Like those Kettleblack brothers I get. But him and the scar and the blergh." she gave a dramatic shiver. "I heard his brother got in trouble for doing things to a girl. That's why he was in jail." 

"Jesus Christ." Sansa slammed the binder shut, making Margaery jump. "I'm not working with you if this is all you're going to go on about." 

"What is wrong with you?" Margaery complained. "You're so sensitive, I'd almost think it was true." 

"And if it is?" Sansa challenged her. Margaery's eyebrows furrowed. 

"Wait, is it?" 

"What if it was?" Sansa's heart was pounding. It was one thing to avoid the rumor, to not give it fuel. It was quite another to confirm it to her best friend in the world, who would surely be their biggest critic. Margaery could lead a crusade against Sansa and Sandor if she so chose, and the entire school would probably follow her. 

"But it's not," Margaery said slowly. "Sansa, that would be insane if it was. He's.... Scary." 

"You are judging him based on one physical thing, his scar," Sansa accused, "and that's so shitty of you. You don't know anything about him, or anyone who doesn't fit your worldview of perfection. So what if it's true? I'd rather kiss a good guy who is scary than a shitty guy who fits what everyone thinks I should do. Maybe you should try having an original thought once and awhile." 

With that, she went to go help Roslin with wrangling pallets of decorations into the gym. 

* * *

Sandor only ventured back into the school when he could be in shop; anyone in that classroom knew better than to bother him with talk about rumors. When Sam joined him for their after hours work, he braced himself for the questions. Instead Sam wanted to chat about the finer points of lamp making, the latest comic series he'd gotten into, and why the weather patterns meant they were going to have a dry spring. 

Sandor didn't care, since it meant he could sit in silence and try his hardest not to obsess over Sansa. She made it impossible, especially when he walked out of the school and she was leaning against the hood of her car, watching him with intense eyes. He made a show of pretending not to see her, then walking slowly like he wasn’t burning from the inside out to hear her voice.

“Only two cookies today?” he asked her, bluffing like he didn’t care.

“Mordy is making another batch as we speak. Snickerdoodle though.” her eyes gleamed.

“The fuck is that?” he asked her honestly and she chuckled, going to the drivers door. He watched her, unsure what she wanted. She opened the door and then after a pause, gestured to the passenger. He was a little embarrassed at how quickly he slid in.

“Where to?” she asked him and he paused, glancing at her.

“What?”

“Where are we going?” she clarified and he blinked.

“You’re not going home?” he didn’t understand that. He never went home because it was a dangerous place to be. It was risky and more often than not, not worth it. He didn’t get why she’d willingly avoid the comforts of home, not when it was safe. “Your dad won’t worry about you being out?”

“Let him,” Sansa said with a bit of relish and he swallowed. He had to remember his place. No matter when it felt like, no matter the moments where she said it was more, he was still the best tool she had at her disposal to upset her parents. And wasn’t that what he had tried to get her to agree to, to protect himself from inevitable heartache? When she realized that she was far too good for him, that the life he offered would never be as good as the one she had?

“Where do you want to go?” he asked her, carefully guarding his tone to make it sound like nothing.

“Where would you normally go on an afternoon like this?” she asked and he glanced around, thinking about it. The past couple days had been dry, and the sun was actually warm this afternoon.

“Skate park, west side of town,” he stated and Sansa put the car in drive.

“Great. You’ll have to get me there.”

“Left then.” he thought about Sansa sitting at the skatepark, watching him. Sometimes the girlfriends of his friends did just that, smoking and flirting with whoever gave them attention for longer than a second. Not her scene and he was not her type. Plus, he reminded himself as she pulled into the rundown parking lot, she was not his girlfriend.

“Now what?” she asked, leaving her backpack in the car, along with her coat. It really was a nice day.

“You tell me.” he watched her. She eyed the empty skatepark then the board he was holding.

“I’ll watch,” she declared and he hid a smile as he walked towards the ramps.

“Stay out of the way then little bird.”

* * *

Sansa had no idea what Sandor was doing. She’d seen skateboarders before, usually swerving through the streets and annoying her father while he drove. Robb had gotten a skateboard for his birthday one year and used it for two weeks before it gathered dust in the garage. She was sitting on the hill, watching as Sandor went from ramp to ramp, sometimes launching himself in the air and more often than not, falling hard to the ground.

There were very few other kids there, younger ones who gave him a wide berth. Sometimes Sandor flipped his hair back and she saw that he was looking at her. She was braiding together the weeds that pushed up around her into a flower crown, like the ones they made at summer camp. She wondered if he’d let her put it on his head. The image of him with yellow dandelions atop his black hair made her smile.

“Having fun?” he approached her after a half hour or so had past; he already had a sheen of sweat on his brow and he tossed her his jacket and flannel, so that he was only wearing the white long sleeve. She held up her crown.

“Try it on?”

“You’re the princess.” he was watching her with a serious expression. Always so serious. She placed the crown on her own head in the hopes that he’d smile at her and was rewarded when he did, no matter how fleeting it was.

“How do you do that?” she asked him, gesturing to the skateboard. He glanced at it then at her.

“Want to try?”

“I’ll fall and kill myself,” she laughed and he offered her his hand.

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“Okay.” she let him pull her to her feet and followed him to the pavement.

“You might, uh, want to take those off.” he pointed to her shoes, cute little kitten heels she’d gotten for Christmas last year.

“Anything else?” she asked him and he tossed skateboard at her feet.

“I hope you’ve got panties on under that skirt, Stark.”

“Sandor!” she gave him an affronted look and he smirked, hands gently going to her waist.

“Alright, get on it. Carefully.”

“Alright.” she gingerly placed one foot on the board and tried to transfer the rest of her weight onto it. It shot out from under her and before Sansa could right herself, she was tumbling backwards. She braced herself for hitting the ground and the pain that would surely blossom, but it never came.

She opened one eye and realized that Sandor had caught her; he’d dropped to one knee to cradle her head a few inches above the ground. He was looking at her in fear, those brown eyes wide in concern. She drew in a shaky breath and tried to laugh, but not before he’d sat her up, still searching her face in apparent worry that she was hurt. She wasn’t and so she leaned forward and kissed him. It was both a thank you and something else. Because she could.

She ignored the boys hooting at the other end of the skatepark.

* * *

He was beginning the realize the danger in Sansa Stark wasn’t in her almost unworldly beauty. Or her annoying charm, which she could seemingly turn on just about anyone and melt them into a pile of mush. No, the most dangerous thing about her was that she was fun. A true good time. She was like his own little ball of sun, filling him with light and warmth and making it seem like everything was going to be okay.

“Faster, faster!” she cheered in glee and he huffed, trying to run faster. He was pushed her on the skateboard. It’d taken her ten minutes just to figure out how to stand on the thing without managing to smash her head into the pavement and give him a heart attack. Then another ten minutes for her to stop running off the damn thing every time she tried to push off and go anywhere. But now they were thirty minutes into the adventure and she’d discovered that if he pushed her, she got to have all the fun with none of the effort.

“When is it my turn?” he demanded, giving her another mighty push out into the pavement; she rode until the momentum ended and turned to him, windblown and delighted.

“I can’t push you! You’re too heavy. And besides, I’m not strong.”

“Bullshit.” he flipped the board up into his hands when she sent it towards him. “C’mon then. Be fair.”

“Oh, god.” Sansa laughed and came to try to push him, laughing with amusement as he barely budged. “I can’t!”

“Here.” he gave himself a little push, to get going and then Sansa could push him, but not nearly as fast as he could with her.

“You’re so heavy!”

“Calling me fat, prom queen?”

“Yes!” she broke down in a fit of laughter and couldn’t push him any further. He watched her in amusement, still standing on the board. The last time he’d seen her laugh this much, she’d been high as hell in the library, extolling her own popularity. He liked this even better than he’d liked that.

“You’re lazy, more like.” he ran for the half pipe, going up to drop in. Sansa watched him, still catching her breath.

“I want to try that!”

“Hell no!” he looked at her like she was crazy.

“Why not?” she pouted and he approached her, grabbing her face with his hands and using her to stop himself. She stayed very still, looking up at him. He looked over her face, trying to commit every little thing to memory. The tiny upturn of her nose, the enticing cupid’s bow of her lips, the tiny flecks of dark blue that made her eyes seem to shimmer.The redness of her cheeks, and the way the sweat dampened down the little baby hairs along her forehead. A few freckles across her nose and cheeks. He leaned forward to kiss one such freckle.

“I can’t break you Sansa Stark.”

“You won’t break me.” she leaned back and looked at him earnestly. Somehow her hand had snaked up into his hair and she pressed herself to him. His vision about went dark with desire.

“I won’t be responsible for your first concussion then. I’ll teach you a rail stand or something first.”

* * *

Wednesday passed easily for Sansa. She wasn't sure if the rumor had been dismissed as nonsense or what, but it certainly seemed that less people were staring at her. Maybe Sandor had smacked a few heads together and went on his merry way. The only person who treated her any differently was Margaery. She gave Sansa a wide berth and though she felt a twinge of guilt that she'd snapped at her, she more so enjoyed the relative peace without all of her chatter. 

"Hey." Jeyne sat down carefully beside her. Sansa gave her a little smile, still working on gluing together her chemistry project. 

"Hi." 

"Have you heard about the party this weekend?" Jeyne avoided looking directly at her. Sansa gave a silent chuckle and shook her head. 

"No, why?" 

"The football players are having it at the Martell's place. Halloween themed." 

"Halloween in April?" Sansa looked at her skeptically. "Why?" 

"Because they're in season during actual Halloween," Jeyne explained helpfully, "and now they want to host it." 

"That sounds...." Sansa trailed off. She was going to sound stupid or ridiculous or lame, but it actually sounded rather fun. And the Martell's had the best house for parties - they had a massive indoor pool. Sansa had ended up going for a drunken swim more times than she cared to admit. "Fun. It sounds fun." 

"Really?" Jeyne perked up significantly. "You're going to come then?" 

"Maybe," Sansa said carefully. But she'd gone to one of Sandor's parties with him. Maybe he would be game to do the same. And this could be the perfect chance - if they had costumes and masks, who would know it was them?

"I think it's going to be a blast." Jeyne was back to her normal, perky self now, putting a hand on Sansa's arm and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "What's our costume going to be?" 

"I don't know. You only gave me a few days to plan." Sansa was already running over ideas in her head. What could he wear to cover his scar? What could she wear to cover her hair? 

"Well we can go together matching," Jeyne said, as though it should be obvious. "Wouldn't that just piss off Marg?" 

"I'll think about it," Sansa promised, finishing up her project and throwing the glue back into the basket. She would think about it, just not with Jeyne. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jeyne rose as well. “Oh, and I’ve been telling everyone to knock it off with that rumor. Was that why you were so upset this week?”

“You’re a good friend,” Sansa told her instead and then walked away, completely ignoring the rest of the question. She left a confused Jeyne standing in the middle of the hallway.

* * *

He hadn’t seen Sansa all day, but that was fine. She’d left him his lunch in his locker, which made him chuckle. He wasn’t sure if she remembered where it was from their adventure to it during detention or if the graffiti gave it away. He liked it either way. He was heading into his after school shop time with Sam when suddenly a small hand slipped into his own for a brief second and then was gone.

He looked down at his hand, now holding a slip of paper. Then he looked up and spotted a bit of red hair moving through the crowd. He smiled before he could stop himself, opening up the note to see what was inside. Her delicate, neat handwriting, an obvious opposite to his harsh, messy script.

_My house, 6:30_

And then another word, added at the bottom like a bit of an afterthought.

_Please_

He folded it back up and put it in his pocket carefully. He didn’t want to lose it.

His two hours with Sam went by slowly, but it was the hour between Sam and Sansa that really dragged. He wasted most of it skateboarding around, getting closer and closer to Sansa’s house as it ticked closer and closer to the time she’d written down. Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he turned down her street and went to the gated drive she’d driven him through. He wondered if he should go in the front door or try to sneak into Sansa’s room.

Sneaking in would be romantic for her and more of a challenge for him. He didn’t quite know what possessed him, but he snuck around the back, looking for anything that might help get him up to the second floor window that belonged to her room. Instead, as he carefully eased between the bushes, he heard shouting and the unmistakable sound of someone crying. He froze, trying to look into the window without being seen.

There was a woman laying on the couch, wailing. She looked so much like Sansa, it almost stopped his heart thinking it was her. Ned stood over her, arms folded. He looked even angrier than he had when he’d found Sandor in Sansa’s bed. And then, with a jolt of pain, Sandor spotted Sansa.

She was sitting on the floor across from her parents, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them. The look on her face was utterly miserable, the sort of look he’d only seen once before when she’d been upset at him for thinking that her life was so perfect. She watched her parents silently, as the voices and crying grew louder and louder until he could understand what they were saying.

“How could you have an affair? Why didn’t you love me enough from the start? Why wasn’t I enough?”

“I never had an affair!”

“I know he’s your son!”

Sandor stood, going for the backdoor. He couldn’t take it anymore, not when Sansa looked so heartbroken. He opened it and walked into the living room, shoulders squared back. Everything in the house seemed to stop, going completely still. Both Sansa’s parents just stared at him, likely wondering how the hell he’d gotten in and just who the hell he was. But then Sansa moved and broke the spell.

Without looking once at her parents, she got up and crossed the room towards him. He simply held out a hand for her and she took it, her hands trembling when she did so. He wrapped an arm around her because he could and walked with her out of the house without saying a single word to any of them.

* * *

Sansa wasn't even aware she was driving until she ran a red light and Sandor's hand found it's way to her knee. She jumped, realizing with a rush that she couldn't hear over the buzzing in her ears, and could hardly see through the tears in her eyes. 

"I don't know where I'm going," she admitted to him and there was a gentle, reassuring squeeze on her knee. 

"You don't have to." 

Eventually, they wound up near the lake Sansa remembered from her childhood. A big circle, with an island in the middle of it. As children, they use to feed ducks here and go for walks around it with their mother. Today, in the overcast spring gloom, it did not seem as bright and cheerful as her memories. 

She didn't remember walking out of the house with Sandor. She didn't remember him bringing her to the car or leaving from her house. Really, the only proof she had was that they were here and not in a wreck somewhere. She looked over at him, startled and a bit confused. 

The car was suddenly overwhelmingly claustrophobic. She opened the door and got out, walking away from the car and trying to draw in deep breaths. Outside of the car, her chest didn't feel so constricted, but it still seemed like the world was crashing down around her. She looked up at the slate grey sky and felt the tears making her eyes hot. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them slowly, looking back at Sandor. 

He was leaning against the car, watching her. Once, she would have said that he looked annoyed. Impassive. Maybe even haughty. But the longer she looked, the more she saw. The more she understood. She saw the deep sadness in his eyes and the anger in the ever so slight purse of his mouth. The understanding in his posture, how he wasn't trying to comfort or dismiss her. She raised her shoulders in an ever so slight shrug and he gave just the smallest of nods back to her. 

Sansa found herself wrapped up in his arms and letting herself fall apart. He didn't seem to care that she was crying into his jacket; he had his arms wrapped around her and was gently rubbing her back. She hugged him close, feeling the stiff denim fabric curl between her fingers. It was nice, for a moment to be less than absolutely perfect. And it was also strange, for Sandor to be the person that she showed that to. 

"I'm sorry," she said finally, once she'd gotten herself a little bit more together. She leaned back and Sandor's arms dropped, slowly. 

"Why are you sorry?" he demanded and she tried to swipe her cheeks dry. She was sure mascara was running down her face. She'd look a wreck. 

"That you had to see that," she explained and for a second, he reached up and gently touched her chin. 

"That your parents fought? Or that you cried?" 

* * *

The Sandor of three weeks ago would have never believed what was happening. The entire concept would've been unrealistic, never mind the reality. Sansa Stark was crying in his arms, using his old Styx shirt as a hankie, and apologizing to him for fighting parents. As if he wasn't the poster child for dysfunction and shitty parenting. Like he had no idea what it was like to run away. 

He never would've believed that this was Sansa's life. He had expected her parents to be perfect. Distant, maybe, but they provided a roof and food and a car and bright, shiny new clothes whenever she so desired. What else could a kid want? He knew now. He knew that all those things were balanced out by a neglect almost as toxic as his own home. He looked at her and suddenly felt like they knew each other better - or at least understood. 

"Are you hungry?" Sansa avoided his question. She was still trying to wipe away the tracks her tears had made in her makeup.

"Yeah." he really was, but mostly he wanted to get her back to normal. It was like a bit of her veneer had been cracked away, and instead of the porcelain doll he saw a real girl. 

"Okay." she sniffled a bit, rubbing her shoulders. They'd left the house without a backwards glance and she lacked a coat, again. With a little smile, he pretended to heave a weary smile and slipped off his own jacket for her. "Oh! I don't--" 

"Quit, little bird," he ordered, helping her into it. Then he softened and gave her hand a little squeeze. "Looks better on you than me." 

"Okay." she smiled this time and then stretched up to kiss him. It took him a little off guard, since he figured most girls didn't want to be kissed so soon after crying, but that didn't stop it from being an excellent kiss. He cupped the back of her head, wanting to keep her close and extend the kiss. For her part, Sansa didn't seem interested in breaking it either, at least not until his stomach rumbled loudly. 

"Ignore me," he muttered into her mouth when she broke away. He felt her lips turn up into a smile and gave him one last long kiss. 

"I couldn't ignore you if I tried," she replied and he chuckled, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. How had things changed so quickly with her? "So what's on the menu then, burgers? Or do you want to try sushi?" 

"Burgers." he had no desire to make himself look like an idiot in front of her, not when it felt like this new understanding was so delicate between them. 

"Drive-through?" she suggested and he nodded. She slipped into the drivers seat and he went around to the passenger, though he did reach over and hold her hand. 

They went through the drive through and Sansa ignored his insistence that he pay. She bought him two burgers and large fries, plus an ice cream cone he ate first. Her own meal was much smaller, but he pretended not to notice when she stole a few fries from him. She drove them to the skatepark and they sat in the parking lot, eating in mostly silence. He had to stop himself from inhaling the burgers as quickly as he could. 

"Thank you," he said finally, when he was just starting on his fries. 

"No, thank you." Sansa licked salt off her fingers. "I forget sometimes that I can leave. I don't have to stay and listen." 

"I leave all the time," he revealed and she gave him a sad smile. 

"Well, now we have a place to go." 

* * *

Sitting beside Sandor, eating their burgers, was nice. For once she wasn't worried what a guy would think if she had fries. Sandor had to see her sneaking them and he didn't say a word. It seemed like he didn't mind at all that she'd had a burger instead of a salad or something otherwise deemed acceptable. 

Her mind wasn't quite letting her think about what had happened before this. She knew her parents fought, but she never knew it was like that. They’d really lost it this time, going all out. And they’d done it in front of her, when they’d usually retreat behind closed doors. She really wanted to call Robb and talk to him, to tell him what was happening and what she should do.

“At least it’s going to be nicer this weekend,” Sandor muttered, as a little drizzle began to pelt the windshield.

“Speaking of.” Sansa pretended to be deeply interested in her napkin, folding it up smaller and smaller. “There’s, uh, a party on Saturday.”

“Yeah?” Sandor dug around in the bottom of his bag for any fries that had evaded them. “Where at?”

“Martell’s.”

“The Martell’s?” Sandor shot her a glance and Sansa nodded, now tearing her napkins into smaller pieces. He looked sidelong at her, eyes unreadable.

“It’s a Halloween party.” Sansa gave him a little smile.

“It’s fucking April.”

“Well that’s what I said but apparently it’s because the football players and people don’t get to celebrate it in the fall.” Sansa knew she was treading on thin ice here, given Sandor’s testy relationship with athletes. But she had gone to his party.

“You’d want me to go? Even with all those rumors? Even with the mocking?” he was being angry and hard again, but Sansa wasn’t too worried. He was the boy who’d taken her by the hand and led her away from her parents, took her somewhere quiet to hold her while she cried. There were cracks to him, ones that she could squeeze between and reach him.

“It’s a costume party. If you don’t want anyone knowing that you spent the weekend with the prom queen and all her preppy friends, just put on a mask and pretend to be someone else,” she suggested and he snorted, leaning back.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright then?” she looked at him in surprise. She though she’d have to argue with him about it, not that he would give in so easily. He smirked and leaned over to give her a kiss.

“Yeah, I already got a costume.”

“Should I be nervous?” she wondered aloud and he snorted.

“Probably, but not about that.”

* * *

Sandor had Thursday to gather up his stupid costume for Sansa’s stupid party and then all of Friday. She explained to him, through a note she left with his lunch in his locker, that both her parents had been angry with her, questioned where she’d been, and why she’d been with him. Sansa planned to lay low until Saturday so that they didn’t stop her from going to the party, but that she’d be there to pick him up Saturday night.

He didn’t like not seeing her, he was beginning to realize. It gave him something to look forward to during the day, even if it was just a smile from her. But it seemed like every spare second she had, she was surrounded by her friends. He knew it was because the end of school was approaching - the yearbook would come out in a few weeks, prom was next weekend, graduating was only a month or so away - and Sansa was in the middle of it all.

Friday night he chose to hang out with his friends, back in Trant’s trailer, listening to heavy metal and smoking. He thought about last weekend, Sansa’s head on his knee. Even though there were plenty of girls here, he ignored them. Ros was stripping on the coffee table, drunk and laughing, but it barely registered for him. He thought about Sansa, about what she was going to wear on Saturday.

Halloween in April was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of, so it made sense that it came from the braindead athletes. He was grateful that Sansa hadn’t asked him to wear some stupid costume. He thought his was pretty brilliant, given that it completely hid his face and was comprised of pieces he already owned. He was fast beginning to realize that he’d do a lot for Sansa, but silly dress up and palling around with her shitty friends was still too much.

Saturday dawned bright and hot. It was the first real nice day, where he left behind his heavy coats and only needed a simple tee-shirt to keep him warm. He took his board and fled the house, just trying to get away and into some freedom. He wanted to ride over to Sansa’s, but he thought better of it. He’d be the fuckup boyfriend, but only when she asked for it. That seemed safe.

Sansa promised she’d pick him up at their customary gas station; the Martell’s house was in the southern part of town so she’d be driving them. He waited there until her BMW pulled up, then reached down and grabbed the duffel bag he’d packed. He’d stolen some beer from his father and brother. They were having a party this weekend and would never miss them, not with the amount of drifters that went through the house on nights like tonight. He didn’t want to be empty-handed, even if he suspected Sansa had filched more booze for tonight.

At the last second, before he reached her car, he pulled the mask down on and opened the passenger door.

“ARGHH!” Sansa screamed so loud he jumped and ripped the mask off. “What the hell Sandor?”

“It’s my costume!” he waved the hockey mask at her, his own heart pounding just a bit.

“You are dressed as a serial killer getting into my car!” Sansa sounded near hysterical and he felt actual guilt, reaching over to grab her hands.

“Hey. Hey. It’s me. Sansa, it’s me.”

“A warning,” she said haltingly, “would have been nice.”

“I told her I had a costume,” he reminded her and she shot him a filthy look.

“You could have told me you were going to be fucking Jason!”

“Who are you?” he asked her, staring at her in surprise now that she had stopped yelling. She was wearing a white button-down and to his alarm, no pants. Her legs were bare and he had to physically stop himself from reaching to see if they were actually naked. She grinned and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“Don’t you know? I’m Risky Business!”

* * *

"Who?" Sandor looked at her blankly and Sansa frowned. 

"Risky Business," she repeated, a bit slower, and only got back a frown and a head shake. She gaped at him, astonished. "You've never seen the movie Risky Business?" it was a favorite of her and Robb's. 

"Are you wearing.... pants?" he asked her, eyeing her suspiciously. The white button-down was her dad's, so it hung almost to her knees, but she could see why he'd ask. It looked like she was, since she only had spandex on underneath. 

"I am, so don't get ideas." she meant to sound strict, but it mostly came out strangled. She'd thought of a hundred different costume ideas for the party but settled on this one because it seemed casual and cool, instead of trying too hard. And her parents had been so mad at her for the Sandor thing that she thought it wise not to piss them off any further with a trip to the mall. 

"Oh, I won't," he said darkly, kicking his bag over so there was more room for his feet. She snuck a glance at him as she backed out. Now that her heart had stopped racing, she could see his costume better. At any other moment, she would have assumed they were his normal clothes, except that they were a bit big for him. But when he added the hockey mask, it was unmistakable. 

She wondered if it was intentional that he'd chosen something to cover his face. She didn't want to push if it was because he did or didn't want to be seen with her among all her friends. She was mostly just being thankful that he hadn't brought along the machete. That would have maybe put them over the edge. She assumed that the bag had some form of alcohol in it. She'd stolen wine and vodka from her dad, safely secured in the trunk. 

"Are you going to wear the mask the whole time?" she asked him carefully, when they turned into the neighborhood where the Martell family lived. Sandor was looking out the windows at the massive houses, seemingly lost in thought. 

"Depends." 

"Well let me know if you want me to find you a straw," she remarked and Sandor turned to her, brow furrowed. 

"A straw." 

"Yeah." Sansa pointed to the mask, with only a small couple holes for a mouth. "So you can drink." 

Sandor's lips twitched for a second like he was going to laugh, but then he just gave a little shrug and pulled the mask on. Sansa took a breath and turned down the driveway, parking her car among the many that were already there. It looked like the party had spilled out of the house, if the music and lights were anything to go off of. She glanced at Sandor, who simply heaved the bag onto his back and opened the door. She got out and tugged the shirt down anxiously, getting the booze from the trunk. 

"Wine?" Sandor's voice was a bit muffled behind the mask. Sansa smiled to herself as she slammed the trunk shut. 

"Yeah, my mom was home. What'd you expect?" 

* * *

In the end, he made Sansa get him a straw. He fought a valiant battle, but it was necessary if he wanted to both drink and stay anonymous. Which was working to a degree that almost alarmed him if he was being honest. They'd arrived, walked in, gotten drinks, and had joined Sansa's friends playing drinking games in the garage with minimal questions. Sansa introduced him as her friend from camp, which amused him, and no one thought to question it. 

Or they were too drunk to comprehend it. 

Sandor had seen plenty of debauchery in his life. It was hard to avoid, with his parents and Gregor around. His friends got drunk and high more often than not and had been known to break shit on occasion. But none of them had anything on drunk rich kids. All around him was insanity. 

The Martell's had an indoor pool, which surprised him but seemed normal to everyone else gathered. There were currently three naked kids swimming in it, two girls and a boy, and it seemed like more were preparing to strip and join them. He sat back, watching it and feeling only slightly stupid for drinking a vodka sprite through a straw. The only reason it was worth it because Sansa was sitting across from him, her feet in his lap, watching the chaos with a little smile on her face and a large glass of red wine. 

"Sansa!" Margaery was one of the girls in the pool. "Wet tee-shirt contest!" she splashed in Sansa's direction but it fell short by several feet. 

"Don't drown yourself," Sansa said lazily as Margaery was pulled under, shrieking, by the Turnberry kid. 

"And you complained about my heavy metal?" he grumbled, low enough that only Sansa heard him. She gave a little lopsided smile.

'Never thought I'd hear you complain about some nudity." 

"I..." he'd opened his mouth to tell her that he'd rather see her nude, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He took a drink to stop himself from continuing and Sansa's attention was diverted when someone threw a bottle at the garbage, missing and shattering it all over the floor. A harried boy ran over with a broom and pan. 

"Are you having fun, Jason?" she asked, turning back to him. She'd been calling him that all night and he smiled behind his mask each time she did. 

"Are all these things so...." he watched as Indiana Jones and racy Shirley Temple emerged from a room, the whip still wrapped around Shirley's waist. "So fucked up?" 

"This is more than most," she admitted, as a sexy cat thew up in one of the plants. 

"Holy shit." he'd spotted a pair across the way - the taller figure was dressed up like an old time circus body builder, completed with fake dumbbells and the shorter figure beside him that was dressed as what Sandor could only assume was an assassin, with tight, all black clothes and a black mask covering her face. 

"Gendry." for a second, Sansa didn't seem to understand what was so strange about it. Then she looked at the smaller figure and gave a little gasp. "Is that.... Arya?" 

"Gendry!" Margaery was yelling from the pool, doing a lazy backstroke to better show off her assets. "Who's your friend?" 

"Oh shit." Sansa leaned forward and squeezed his hand. "Shit, I have to do something. Gendry! C'mere!" 

* * *

She had no idea what was going to happen. She flagged down Gendry frantically in the hopes that he'd avoid Margaery's curious eyes. He looked relieved, taking Arya's hand and bringing her over. Sansa hastily made room for them, getting up and sitting a bit roughly in Sandor's lap. He caught her with a hard exhale, but then after a second adjusted her so that she was sitting comfortably, one hand on her hip. 

"Hey man," Gendry muttered then did a second look, hands freezing from pulling Arya's chair towards his. "Wait. Sandor?" 

"Jason," he corrected and Gendry grinned at him. 

"Nice mask." 

"You too." Sansa directed her comment to Arya, who was sitting cross-legged in the chair. "Everyone's hiding in plain sight." 

"Are you going to tell people?" Gendry asked her and she felt Sandor's fingers tighten on her hip, ever so slightly. She didn't know what that meant; that he wanted to or not? 

"I don't know." she turned to look at Sandor and instead got the white, blank hockey mask. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to it and trying to see into the eye sockets. 

"You look like a couple," Arya stated and Sansa saw that Gendry reached over to take her hand. 

"So do you two," she replied honestly. They really did, with the way that both of them were ignoring any of the odd looks they were getting. Arya turned to look at Gendry and he smiled at her. 

"Want a beer?" Sandor suggested and Sansa reached down to get them both some. Arya took one sip, gave a little squeak, and set it back down. Gendry chuckled and got her a wine cooler without a saying a word. She drank that happily, her grey eyes darting around to take everything in. 

"So who was first into the pool, Turnberry or Marg?" Gendry asked conversationally and Sandor snickered. 

"Marg, obviously. Any chance she has to get naked, she will." Sansa rolled her eyes. 

"Some sort of friend," Sandor remarked and Sansa gave a little sigh of agreement. She loved Margaery, she did. But her friend was wild and it was exhausting. She had no time to do anything with Margaery and her dumb ideas anymore. 

The conversation evolved to just be a running sort of commentary on what was going on around them, including observations from Arya that were funnier than Sansa had ever expected. She giggled when Arya narrated the fights and hookups going on all around them. She was enjoying herself, even thought she wasn't the center of attention here either. 

"Hey," Sandor whispered in her ear and she turned to him, wishing that his mask was gone so she could kiss him. But that posed a whole different set of problems. 

"Yeah?" 

"I have to piss." 

"Oh." she clambered off his lap and he rose up, setting down his beer. "C'mon, it's this way." 

* * *

He was incredibly glad that he'd worn heavy pants for this stupid costume, if only so that Sansa couldn't feel the situation she'd put him in. But could he be blamed? She wasn't wearing pants, and those long thin legs went all the way up. Screw the naked girls in the pool. He would always be more into Sansa and her button-down. 

He walked behind her, trying and failing not to watch her ass the entire time. He couldn't help it. There was just something about her that was special. And when she turned and looked over her shoulder, smiling at him, he couldn't help but wonder if there was every going to be anything else for him besides her. 

"Oh, let's go to this one," she decided, after they'd tried two bathrooms and found them both in a state of use. The one where Sansa was taking him now was off of a bedroom. 

"I could've went outside," he reminded her and she made a face over her shoulder at him. 

"Why? This place has twenty seven bathrooms."

"Really?" his house had two and they were usually ransacked after Gregor went through. 

"No, but it's got a lot." Sansa opened the door to the bedroom. He wondered if it was a guest room or if the kids were just that boring. It had almost nothing in it besides a bed and dresser, with a long mirror on one wall. Sansa gestured to the open bathroom door and then went to the mirror, inspecting her hair. 

He went to the bathroom, noting that it was bigger than his own and then washed his hands. He pulled the mask off to splash water on his face and then went out to Sansa, who was frowning as she shook her hair out. He smiled; he liked it when it was a little bit unruly and imperfect. That was when he could best pretend that Sansa was his and that this would ever work. 

"You don't get crowned til next week princess." 

"Very funny." Sansa looked at him and then broke into a smile. "Your mask is off." 

"It's hot," he explained and she walked over to him, still smiling. 

"I'm glad it's off. I've wanted to do this all night," she said softly before reaching up and grabbing the back of his head so he could bend down and kiss her. It took him a little off guard since he had expected to go the entire night without really even touching her. 

He didn't know what it was. Maybe the combination of the no pants look, her sitting in his lap, or the fact that they were along in a bedroom, but he suddenly and urgently needed more. He grabbed Sansa and picked her up, walking over to the bed. He pulled back before he set her down, searching her face. For fear, for acceptance, for permission. She gave it to him in the form of another fierce kiss. 

* * *

Sansa had no idea what she was doing. She felt like she should be panicking or at least having some form of anxiety. She usually did, whenever a boy kissed her. But not with Sandor. Maybe she was a little too drunk. And maybe she felt a little bit like rebelling. But there was no fear with him, not even as she found herself in bed with him, both of them a little bit breathless at it all. 

First to go was Sandor's heavy over-shirt, so that he was only wearing a thin tee-shirt. The top few buttons of Sansa's shirt popped. Sandor’s hands slid up and under it, skimming the waistband of her spandex. She squeaked and his hands withdrew quickly, but that wasn’t want she wanted. It was more surprise than anything else. She wanted more. She wanted him. She kissed his neck and heard the low growl in his throat.

Somehow she ended up under him, having to stretch up to get any sort of contact. Sandor was holding himself away from her, but he was kissing her like he meant it. And his hand was under her shirt again, but she didn’t want him to take it away. She wanted more. So, hesitantly, she responded in kind, reaching up to touch his stomach. She felt him constrict and his nails dug into her, ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” he sucked in a deep breath and pressed her down, deeper into the mattress. “Sansa….”

“What did I do wrong?” she asked him worriedly and was surprised that he reached up and gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Nothing. God, nothing.” he surprised her even more by reaching down and kissing her right between her eyebrows. When he pulled back, he had that same sort of sweet, slightly dopey smile that he had first showed her in the closet during detention. “Just… You’re not ready.”

‘Says who?” she asked defensively and he raised one eyebrow.

“You said you wanted your first time to be special,” he reminded her.

“Who says you’re not?” Sansa touched his cheek and he looked away from her.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” he sounded bitter, angry.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she tried to pull him closer to her again. She liked it best when he was pressed up against her.

“Because you really thinking you’re going to sleep with a guy like me?” he pushed her away and Sansa sat up, hurt. “I’m not who you think I am Sansa.”

“How many time are we going to have this fight?” she demanded. “I told you, I wasn’t just using you to piss of my parents. I like you, I really do.”

“For how long?” he shot back and Sansa stared at him. She couldn’t really answer that, but she knew whatever this was, she wanted it. She just didn’t know how to prove it to him.

“However long it works,” she admitted and saw his eyes flash. “You told me we want different things. But I think we really want the same thing right now.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered and she reached up to kiss him again.

“When are you going to realize that’s exactly what I’m trying to do?”

“Sansa.” he was looking at her with hunger and Sansa was sick of being good all the time, denying herself everything in order to be perfect.

“Shut up and kiss me Sandor.”

* * *

His heart was pounding so hard he could hardly hear himself think. He was trying to be aware of too many things at once; remembering every second of this for later, not screwing anything up, making sure Sansa wasn’t regretting anything, going slow. It was overwhelming when every fiber of his being was screaming with want for the girl in bed next to him.

Sansa had told him that she’d kissed boys and stuff before. But not sex. And he couldn’t stop thinking about how she told him she’d want it to be special, and that little nagging voice in his head that reminded him he wasn’t special, no matter how hard he tried to be good enough for her. He never would be and he had to learn to live with that, as deep as it cut.

But he could silence that voice for a little bit. Long enough to kiss her, to get her shirt unbuttoned, and to feel the way her body moved beneath his. He slid his hands down her neck and arms, marveling at the way she seemed to fit so neatly into him. Had a form ever been so perfectly made? He didn’t know what to do with her, not when everything about her was so different from himself.

She reached up with a little noise of frustration, trying to pull off his shirt. He hadn’t let her, up until now. Not that he was ashamed of his body. He wasn’t. Between his diet and the fact that being out of the house and on the move was the best way to avoid Gregor, he enjoyed keeping himself fit. He was probably in better shape than half of the athletes that went to their school.

He was ashamed of the scars that littered him. He’d told them the story during detention of how Gregor burned him, but he wondered if Sansa believed that to be truth or if she thought it was one of his grandiose lies. It wasn’t, but if she took his shirt off, she’d see more proof that he had been Gregor’s favorite punching bag since he was a child and there were still some days when he couldn’t stop him.

“You’re not being very fair,” she remarked, giving him a kiss just below his earlobe. Desire flooded his brain for a moment, washing words away. “I’m almost naked and you’re not.”

“I’m not the one who didn’t wear pants,” he answered and was rewarded when she giggled.

“C’mon.” she gave the tee-shirt another tug and he reluctantly let her lift it, until it came free. Sansa’s hands went to his chest, to do to him what he’d been doing all evening, but then stopped. He held his breath as she ran her fingertips over his scars. He closed his eyes, waiting for her to squirm out from under him, stammering excuses, and run. He waited for it, told himself not to be mad when it came.

Soft lips touched his scars. His eyes flew open in surprise and he looked down. Sansa was lightly covering him in kisses, each one ghosting over where a scar was, drifting from shoulder to shoulder, down towards his hipbones. He sucked in a breath as she flittered over his waistband; no scars were there but she still gave him a little kiss. Then she looked up at him, blue eyes steely.

He wore his scars on the outside, she carried hers on the inside, but it was damage nonetheless.

He wanted to devour her. He was starved for her touch, hungry for her in any way she’d let him have her. He couldn’t stop himself from growling as he lunged for her and brought her close. Sansa didn’t seem to mind the aggression at all; if anything, she matched him kiss for kiss, as desperate as he was. He let him reach down for her thighs and nearly passed out from shock when her legs spread slightly. With slow, deliberate strokes, he went higher and higher until he was lightly running his fingers along the outside of her spandex, head spinning.

* * *

She was going to pass out. She was sure of it. The thing Sandor was doing was overwhelming her, making every nerve in her body feel like it was straining to explode out of her skin. She knew what this was - one was not best friends with Margaery and not know - but she’d never felt anything like this before. She’d never understood what this was, but now that it was happening she almost wondered how she’d lived without it.

Sandor was panting, hot, onto her neck. She liked it, reaching up to kiss him. She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want this to end. There was something glorious about it, about finally letting herself relax. Sandor wouldn’t judge her. He wasn’t doing it to gloat. She didn’t know why she had such faith that his intentions were good, only that she was sure they were. He was special. He wasn’t like anyone else.

Something was happening. She felt like she was going to explode. She squeaked, about to tell Sandor to stop before she screamed, when it felt like a warm rush went throughout her entire body. She gasped, tensing, before every muscle in her body went limp. Sandor choked and suddenly stumbled out of bed, going to the bathroom and slamming the door. Sansa sat up, watching him in concern. She wanted to run after him, but it honestly felt like her legs were made of cooked noodles.

“Are you okay?” she called after a minute or so of silence. Then she heard the toilet flush and he walked back into the room, his neck red.

“Fine.”

“I…” she suddenly realized like what a whore she seemed, with her shirt hanging open. She pulled it shut, bitting her lip.

“You don’t have to do that.” he was watching her carefully. “I’ve seen it. Fuck, I enjoyed it.”

“Someone could walk in,” she protested weakly and he smiled.

“All for me, huh then little bird?”

“Don’t joke.” now that it was said and done, she felt a little dirty. “Don’t, not right now.”

“I’m fine with it.” he was walking back over to her, his grey eyes still dark. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you.”

“You have other girlfriends,” she challenged and he stood directly in front of her, looming over. Then he scooped her up and into his lap so fast she didn’t have time to protest.

“I only have one you,” he told her seriously, “and you’re the only one who almost makes me come in my pants just from that alone.”

“Sandor!” she gasped, giving him a shove. He laughed and pulled her closer.

“Don’t be coy with me. You know that’s what it was.”

“I didn’t actually.” she was blushing, so she hid her face in his neck where he wouldn’t see. “That was all…. New.”

“Fuck, don’t tell me that.” he kissed her neck. “Or I’ll want to do it again.”

“We should get back to the party.” Sansa wasn’t sure how well she would be able to control herself if Sandor started that all over again. “Gendry will wonder where we were.”

“He’s a wrestler Sansa. He’s a moron but he’s not dumb. He knows exactly what we were doing.”

* * *

It seemed like everyone at the party knew what had happened. Mask back on, Sansa’s hand in his, he walked through the party receiving sly nods and covert gestures of encouragement. Even Gendry gave him a little grin when they sat back down and picked up their drinks, pretending as though Sandor’s bathroom break had gone on for so long for no good reason.

“So when are you going to spill the beans to your parents?” he heard Sansa ask Gendry, when Arya got up to go get them more alcohol. The party was rapidly spinning from bad to worse around them, so their chances of being overheard were slim to none.

“I don’t know. My dad probably thinks that she’s a distraction anyways. You know how he is. And my mom doesn’t care about anything. Why, do your parents know about him?”

“Sort of,” Sansa admitted and Sandor pretended like he was deeply engrossed in crushing beer cans and not in them. “He’s been over.”

“Been over?” Gendry sounded skeptical. “In what capacity?”

“Well, to like, piss my dad off and stuff.” Sansa was playing with the missing button on her shirt. He felt very proud of that missing button. “And when my mom was…. Bad.”

“Bad?”

“Yeah, going through one of her spells.” Sansa waved a hand. “You know. He came and got me. And whatever.”

“And they were fine with it?”

“No, they hated it,” she laughed. “But that’s the best part. I don’t give a fuck what they think, not anymore.”

“So you’re doing it to piss them off?” Gendry asked and Sandor’s heart stopped. He couldn’t even pretend to be interested in crushing cans. He only wanted to hear Sansa’s answer.

“I’m doing it because I like him. And that’s that.” her tone left no room for argument and Sandor’s heart soared. God, this girl. He reached over like he was going to grab another can, then snagged her and pulled her back into his lap. She came laughing and didn’t protest in the slightest, just adjusted herself slightly so that her hand was where it could teasingly stroke a bit of his hip, and then carried on the conversation with Gendry on just how well the baseball team was going to do at state.

They left the party together, climbing back into Sansa’s car. He threw the mask in the backseat, glad to be rid of it, so that he could keep kissing Sansa at red lights and stop signs until she had to order him out of the car at his requested stop, eyes sparkling. He left her and went to the shed, laying down on the cot with his eyes wide open. What was the point of sleeping, when even his dreams couldn’t come up with something so perfect?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love and blessings and a source of all joy and happiness! letting me know your thoughts makes my whole week.


	3. Week Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the end... sort of! there will be one more (short!) chapter. 
> 
> but let me just say before than that this has been a blast and a half. I'm so glad to be to the one who got to write and share this with you all!

"Oh my god." Margaery draped her arm over Sansa's shoulder, leaning all of her weight onto her. "I was so drunk this weekend." 

"Were you? I didn't notice," Sansa said wryly as Margaery groaned. 

"I think I'm still hungover." 

"You're not." Sansa shoved her off, opening the door to their classroom. "You're just dramatic." 

"I blacked out," Margaery informed her with a bit of pride and Sansa rolled her eyes. "I don't remember a thing." 

"Well you were naked the entire time I was there, so why don't you start with that?" Sansa pulled her book out. 

"Oh, you were there?" Margaery asked with clear surprise and Sansa gave her an exasperated look. 

"Yes, I was. We talked." 

"We did?" she blinked. "Huh." 

"Maybe you should stop drinking so much," Sansa suggested and Margaery waved a hand.

"It's fine. Anyways! Why don't we talk about prom?" Margaery's eyes gleamed. "Are you ready?" 

"Sure." Sansa was mostly ignoring her, scribbling in the last couple answers on her homework. She was ready for prom - she had gotten her dress a few weeks ago and she'd said she'd go with her usual group of friends. There wasn't any reason for her to have changed her plans, except for Sandor. 

The mere thought of him brought heat to her cheeks. She couldn't forget this weekend. Each time she thought about it she wanted to scream or run away or kiss him. She couldn't decide what. There was no way she could tell Margaery any of this so she shut up, pretending to be listening intently as Margaery rambled about what time they'd line up for Grand March and where the best parties were going to be held afterwards. 

"And that's how the night will end," Margaery summed up neatly. Sansa nodded, having stopped listening somewhere around the description of the shoes Margaery was going to wear. 

"That sounds fun." 

"You better not back out," Margaery threatened and Sansa waved a hand as the bell rang. 

"I won't," she promised, gathering up her things. Sandor had proven he was willing to do a lot for her but she was fairly certain prom would be pushing it absolutely too far. 

"See you at lunch!" Margaery bounced away jovially, seemingly oblivious to the looks she was getting. Sansa shook her head with a smile, joining the flow of traffic. She moved easily through the hallways; most people stepped out of her way when she went by. She thought of Sam telling her that she was so conceited, but she wasn't. She just saw the way things were. 

"What the hell are you wearing?" she heard Jeyne's voice before she saw her. Sansa looked, spotting her with a group of younger girls, all clustering together. Sansa detoured through the lockers, wondering what Jeyne was doing. 

"I think she looks nice, for a hobo," another girl sneered and Sansa moved over a row, stopping when she realized what was happening. Arya was sitting on the floor, knees to chest, staring down at her scuffed up shoes. She knew immediately why the girls were mocking her. Arya wasn't in her standard uniform of black - she had on a lighter grey dress with a heavy coat over the top. An attempt at something the more fashionable girls might wear. 

"Do you think she showers?" 

"Unlikely." 

"Jeyne!" Sansa cut them off, hands on her hips. Jeyne turned and looked at her, raising an eyebrow as if to ask her why she was intruding. "Stop being a bitch." 

"What?" Jeyne looked as though Sansa had struck her. 

"Stop being a bitch," Sansa repeated. "She's not doing anything to you. Stop being a bitch." 

"Fine." Jeyne glanced down at Arya then back at Sansa. "Don't know why you're standing up for this freak anyways." 

"Go," Sansa ordered and stood above Arya until Jeyne and her friends had left. Sansa then looked down at Arya, unsure if she would appreciate what she'd done. "You do, uh, look nice." 

"Mhmm." Arya flipped her hood up and disappeared from view. Sansa took that as her cue and walked away, wondering if she should tell Gendry. 

* * *

"Sandor!" Balon Swann caught him around the neck and Sandor gave him several swift jabs in the ribs to get him off. 

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, going back to the task at hand, which was lighting matches and tossing them into the puddle of water outside the girls locker room that always formed after the gym class finished their swim session. He figured he had about two more minutes before the grumpy gym teacher Davos came out and yelled at him. 

"You weren't at Trant's this weekend." 

"Yeah, I was somewhere else," Sandor muttered, tossing the match and watching it soar in a blazing arch, before fizzling out when it touched the water. 

"Where?" he looked suspicious but Sandor debated telling him the truth. No matter how much the Kettleblack twins insisted that they'd seen Sandor and Sansa kissing, no one believed them. Sandor himself played dumb whenever they tried to get him to tell the truth. Blatantly telling someone who he was with would ruin the paper thin shield he and Sansa had from the rest of the school. 

"Martell's house." 

"What?" Balon looked at him with a frown. "Why?" 

"Costume party." another match floating in the water. "I gatecrashed." 

"Why the fuck didn't you invite us?" Balon looked actually annoyed. 

"Because you're assholes." Sandor threw another match right as the door opened. 

"Clegane!" Davos roared and Sandor scrambled, running with Balon out of the man's reach. They joined the crush of students trying to get to lunch, panting slightly and grinning. 

"I'm fucking starving," Balon complained, turning and heading towards the science rooms. Sandor followed, a bit reluctantly. He knew what this was and his heart sank as he spotted Sam there, talking eagerly with some of his friends. "Alright, listen up worms, who's going to give me lunch?" 

"Uh...." there were four boys total, glancing around nervously. Sandor looked at the walls, at the ceilings, anywhere to avoid having to look at Sam. 

"I don't have any money," one ventured and Balon grabbed him by the front of his shirt, balling the fabric up in his hand. 

"Then open your fucking locker and tell me what you have in there." 

"Let him go." Sam's voice trembled, but he gave the order. Balon glanced over at him, surprised. Then he dropped the kid and went to Sam, who shrank slightly but held his ground. 

"Fine. You give me the money then asshole." 

"Balon." Sandor grabbed his elbow. "Leave them alone." 

"I need lunch." Balon wasn't looking back at him but Sam was. Sandor hated seeing the fear in his eyes. 

"Eat some of mine then. Quit being a dick." 

"The fuck?" Balon glanced over his shoulder in confusion and Sandor waved a hand. 

"Let it go man. They don't have shit to give us. Just eat mine." 

"Fine." Balon walked away from Sam, glaring at him. Sandor didn't look back at Sam. He retrieved his lunch from his locker and dumped the majority of it out. He didn't care what Balon ate, but he wasn't having any of Mordy's cookies. 

"Hey, don't fuck with that Sam kid, alright?" he shoved the sandwich and chips towards Balon. 

"Why?" he demanded, incensed. 

"He's getting me out of detention," Sandor admitted, which was mostly the truth if not all of it. "And I don't want that getting fucked up." 

"Didn't know you gave a fuck about detention," Balon grumbled, chewing loudly on the chips. Sandor ignored him, watching in the distance as Sansa walked to the lunchroom, chatting happily with one of her friends. Just seeing her made him feel like he was sinking into a warm bath. 

"I do now." 

* * *

Sansa knew Sandor stayed about two hours after school with Sam, working on shop things. It was not difficult for her to stay to help with prom and after about two hours, yawn and pretend to be exhausted. She said her goodbyes, gathered up her things, and walked quickly towards the shop room, her heels clicking against the tile. 

She paused outside, listening. Inside she could hear the buzzing of the saw, but she had no idea if it was Sandor or Sam. She waited until it stopped, then poked her head in. Sam's things were gone and it was just Sandor, inspecting a piece of wood critically. 

"Hey," she called and he looked up, his suspicion turning to something that she hoped was his way of guarding happiness. 

"What are you doing?" he asked and she shrugged, leaning against one of the machines. 

"Prom stuff." 

"Of course you are." his lips twitched. 

"Not anymore," she offered and he raised an eyebrow, putting the wood away. 

"What now?" 

"Food," she declared and was rewarded when he glanced back at her, just a little too quickly. 

"Careful princess, don't want to not fit in that dress." 

"Don't be an ass," she ordered and he chuckled, putting things away and brushing shavings to the floor. 

"Like you'd actually have trouble fitting into anything." 

"Stop being a jackass and tell me you're coming with." she crossed her arms and did her best to look intimidating. He took one look at her and laughed outright, grabbing his jacket. 

"Yeah alright then. Whatever you want, isn't that the drill?" 

"It is." she wound a scarf around her neck since it was still chilly outside with a strong wind that threatened to blow them over the second they walked outside. "That's why we're getting sushi." 

"What?" Sandor stopped in his tracks. "Sushi?" 

"Yes." she continued on without a backwards glance; she was right in assuming that he would jog and catch up with her rather than miss out. 

"Raw fish." he sounded disgusted. 

"Yes." Sansa stopped and rounded on him; Sandor had to pull up short to stop himself from nearly overrunning her. "And before you say a single word, it's not gross or weird. And I've had a boy's tongue in my mouth, so you can try sushi." 

"Yeah, but...." he seemed dazed, especially once she reached up and gave him a kiss he clearly wasn't expecting. 

"It was your tongue, so you owe me this!" 

* * *

"Please don't make me." he stared at the food in front of him, looking up over it at Sansa. She was regarding him with nothing more than amusement, pouring some black liquid into the little dish between the two of them. 

"Stop being a baby. Try it." 

"But it's...." he prodded the thing with one chopstick and Sansa smacked his hand. 

"Watch, like this." she demonstrated how to hold the chopsticks and then picked one of her pieces up, dunked it in the liquid a few times, and popped the whole thing in her mouth, chewing and swallowing neatly. 

"What's that?" he pointed to the liquid. 

"Soy sauce, it's sort of salty," she explained, nudging his other chopstick towards him. "C'mon, try. It's just spicy crab mostly." 

"I can't fucking use these." the chopsticks were clumsy in his large hands. He didn't have Sansa's thin, deft fingers to nimbly maneuver them. He went to spear one of his pieces before Sansa raised a hand to stop him, giving him an exasperated look. 

"Use your fingers then." 

"I can?" he figured that prim and proper Sansa would never allow that. She gave a little shrug, setting aside her chopsticks. Making sure that he was watching her, she picked up a piece, gave it a little dunk in the soy sauce, and then ate it in one bite, licking her fingers. He stared, mesmerized by her, until she pointed to his own. 

"Try." 

"Jesus Christ." he picked up a piece, then carefully dipped it in the soy sauce. The rice turned brown and he waited until it stopped dripping. He brought it to his lips and closed his eyes, biting down and chewing, waiting for the urge to vomit. 

"Well?" Sansa urged and he opened his eyes, surprised. 

"It's.... good," he admitted and Sansa smirked, leaning back. It was good, just unlike anything he'd ever had before. It was spicy and salty, just like she'd promised, but the seaweed didn't have a taste or texture like he thought it would. He had two more pieces quickly, waiting for it to be disgusting, but it wasn't. 

"Try mine," Sansa suggested, picking up one of her pieces and putting it on his plate and snagging one of his. He eyed hers warily. She'd had a stranger version of his own, with a brown sauce, a green thing called avocado, and eel. The eel was what was giving him pause. 

"What if I spit it out?" he asked her and she laughed, rolling her eyes. 

"I won't make you have another. Do it." 

"Fine." he picked it up, dipped it in soy sauce, and then ate it. It too was good, just nothing like he expected. 

"You like it." Sansa was smirking. "You like it, admit it!" 

"I don't hate it." he ate another one of his, then picked up the slimy white slices on the corner of his plate. "What the hell is this?" 

"Ginger," she told him and he tried it, spluttering at the bitterness of it. 

"That's disgusting!" 

"You don't eat it all at once!" Sansa was laughing, her food forgotten. 

"Then why is it there?" he demanded and she laughed harder. 

"To cleanse your palate, between rolls!" 

"What the fuck is a palate?" he questioned but Sansa couldn't answer him. She was laughing too hard. 

* * *

Sansa wondered if this was a date. As Sandor tried the various types of ice cream the restaurant offered and she chuckled, she hoped it was an actual date. But she didn't want to ruin the perfect moment by questioning. So she waited until they'd paid and were walking back to the car to ask him. 

"Does that count as our first date?" 

"Do you not count the day in detention?" Sandor was trying to eat a chocolate ice cream cone without it dribbling all down his chin. 

"Do you?" she challenged and he licked the ice cream slowly, eyes locked with hers the entire time. 

"Most days." 

"Oh." the words hit her like a punch to the gut and she had a stupid little smile on her face, walking back to the car and trying not to show him how happy his words had made her. 

"Do you want to come over?" she offered, as rain started to pelt the car. There was no way he'd be able to be outside today, so she figured he might want to come over for a movie. She would be lying if she said that she wasn't slightly hopeful that something would happen between the two of them again. 

"I actually told Balon I'd come over." he seemed a little bit remorseful at the prospect which brightened her a little bit. 

"That's fine." she didn't want to show him that it bothered her even in the slightest. 

"Is it?" he was watching her intently. 

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked and he put one hand on her knee. She tried to not jump, but she was sure he heard the sharp intake of breath. He smirked and didn't move his hand. 

She ended up dropping him off at Balon's house, or a block away. She didn't know why she wasn't allowed to drive up to any of these houses but she had learned not to question him about it. He acted like he was going to get out without a backward glance. Sansa almost pouted, annoyed at the sting of rejection, before he got back in the car and brought her in for a kiss that scrambled her brain. 

They made out over the console of the car until that got to be uncomfortable and then Sansa climbed into his lap shamelessly. His hands roamed all over her and hers did the same, until she finally gently pushed him away, unwilling to become the girl in his story from detention. He chuckled and kissed her head, waiting until she sorted herself out back in the drivers seat to get out. He came around to her window, standing in the rain until she rolled it down. 

"You know, you shouldn't get a guy all riled up like that before you make him go hang out with his friends," he told her, leaning through the window. 

"I told you to come over," she reminded him cheekily and then kissed him. She left him in the rain, humming with happiness at some pop song on the radio. 

* * *

_"You can say anything you like, but you can't touch the merchandise... She'll give you every penny's worth, but it will cost you a dollar first. You can step outside your little world, you can talk to a pretty girl, she's everything you dream about, but don't fall in love..." _

Sandor tried to ignore the radio and listen instead to Trant's ranting. That shouldn't have been hard, since he was so loud. But the song was in his head now, drawing up the image of Sansa. Her smiling in her car, over a plate of sushi that she bought him, handing him a lunch that she carried to school every day....

He was in a foul mood. It was raining again, which he knew would bring warmth and green back into the dead landscape, but it didn't seem like it would right now. It just turned everything drab and damp. He grabbed a smoke to just to have a bit of warmth, digging in his pocket for a lighter. 

It was lunchtime and he did have Sansa's food. He was glad it was still his standard sandwich; part of him thought that after their date on Monday, she'd start packing his weird shit to eat. But the last two days had been his normal, left in his locker like it usually was. 

"Where'd you steal that shit from?" Arys gestured to the food Sandor was pulling out of the brown paper bag. 

"What?" he looked at him in confusion and Arys pointed at the bag. 

"Most food I've ever seen you have." 

"Got it from some kid," he lied, shoving the cookies into his pocket before anyone saw them and tried to take some. 

"Gotcha." Arys was watching him and Sandor tried to remain blasé as he took a bite of the sandwich. "Balon said you were at the Martell's this weekend, how come I didn't see you?" 

"You were there?" Sandor looked at him in surprise. He knew that Arys had some friends that were in slightly different social groups, but he didn't think it would reach that high. 

"Yeah, were you?" 

"Yeah, in costume." Sandor took another large bite, hoping that would be enough to dissuade any more conversation. 

"Oh, gotcha man." Arys took the lighter from him and lit his own cigarette, walking away. Sandor finished chewing his sandwich and wondered why he hadn't even see Arys at the party. Sansa was distracting, but he didn't think she was that distracting. Except for when she wasn't wearing any pants and had kissed him like that.

He shifted, trying to stop the flush spreading through his body. He didn't want to think about that. He only did when he was entirely alone, where no one could soil the memory of it. Of her. It was perfect and he wanted to keep it that way. Except it was hard when just looking at her made him feel like he was losing his mind. 

* * *

"Urgh, what a gross day." Margaery slammed her locker shut, putting on her raincoat. "I hate rain." 

"Me too," Sansa said halfheartedly. She really did like the rain, especially when it was in the spring. It meant rebirth soon. 

"It better not rain for prom." 

"Oh, can you control the weather now?" Jeyne joked, directing her comment to Margaery and Margaery only. She still hadn't forgiven Sansa for defending Arya, which Sansa was fine with. It was much more peaceful this way.

"I will. Do you know how much I'm spending on my hair?" 

"I actually love these days," Jeyne stated, walking next to Margaery instead of Sansa. "It's the perfect day to snuggle up with a hot toddy and a blanket." 

"Yeah, it is." Sansa thought about curling with Sandor to watch a movie. Jeyne ignored her, continuing with, 

"I just think it's so unfair that we still have to do our book report. It's prom after all." 

"I know." Margaery heaved a sigh. "Teachers these days just don't get it. I mean, prom only happens once a year. Finals happen, like, all the time." 

"I'll see you guys later okay?" they'd reached the split from the parking lot and the shop room. Sansa wanted to see if Sandor needed a ride home, instead of walking in the rain. 

"Where are you going?" Margaery turned to her in bewilderment, Jeyne ignored her entirely and kept walking. Sansa just waved, continuing to walk. She turned into the shop room, unsurprised to find that Sandor was helping Sam, by sitting across from him and mocking. 

"Don't saw a finger off." 

"You know that scares me!" 

"Be nice," Sansa chided and both of them glanced up, Sandor's face softening right away while Sam blinked in confusion. 

"Sansa, hi." 

"I think we're done for the night." Sandor threw a toothpick he'd been using in the trash, going to clean stuff up. Sansa leaned against the door frame, waiting. 

"What are you doing?" Sam asked her and she bit back a smile. She didn't know how it wasn't exceeding clear exactly why she was here. 

"I'm think about taking shop next year," she told him brightly and Sam's eyes went wide. 

"Really?" 

"No, not really." Sandor gave Sam a little shove when he went by and to Sansa's surprise, Sam actually laughed. 

"I was gonna say that'd be weird." 

"Bye Sam." she wiggled her fingers at him as she followed Sandor out of the classroom. 

* * *

"What are we doing?" he asked her suspiciously, as they walked towards the double doors. Rain was hitting the glass windows hard and Sansa pulled an umbrella from her bag. 

"I'm giving you a ride." 

"Where?" he eyed her as she opened the door so that she could pop the umbrella up. She looked at him imploringly and he stepped under it with her. It put them in very close quarters together, his arm wrapped around her waist. 

"Your house. My house." they stepped out into the deluge. "Wherever." 

"Wherever?" he stomped through the puddles while she tried to avoid them. 

"Wherever you want to go. I just figured you wouldn't want to walk." 

"Oh." that surprised him a little, that she was thinking about him so closely that she knew what a pain in the ass it would be to walk home in this. He didn't say anything else until they were safely tucked away in the car, Sansa blasting the heat to try and dry them off. "Where do you want to take me?" 

"I don't care." she was inspecting her makeup in the mirror, as though it was going to be damaged in any way. He watched her, waiting. 

"You don't care." 

"No." she flipped the mirror back up with a loud snap. "Come over to my house or don't. It doesn't matter to me." 

"Will there be pizza?" he asked her and she watched him for a long moment. 

"Does there have to be?" 

"It helps." he looked out the window. After a pause, she started her car and turned right out of the parking lot, heading for her house. 

Parking in the garage was nice, since it meant that he didn't have to get wet again. Sansa grabbed her backpack and everything, walking inside. He waited for her to shout for Mordy, but she went right to the fridge. 

"What do you want?" she asked without looking back at him. He moved awkwardly through the kitchen, unsure of what he could and couldn't touch. There were flowers and fruit and just things everywhere, but not the piles of papers and garbage and beer cans like he was use to. He settled for perching on a stool in the corner. 

"Don't care." 

"Toaster strudels?" she held up the box and he needed. 

"Where's your nanny?" 

"Mordy always has the night off this time of the month.” Sansa pressed the toaster plunger down, peeking at him through her bangs. "We've got the place to ourselves." 

* * *

Her heart was beating out of her chest. She and Sandor were laying on the couch in the basement, with a bag of Doritos and Sandor idly flicking through the channels. But after twenty minutes, it was abundantly clear that she shouldn't have worried. Sandor was intently watching TV, despite the fact that she kept inching closer and closer to him. After a few more minutes of her trying to make a move and failing, she sighed and reached down into her bag, drawing out her homework. She grabbed a blanket, tossed it over her legs, stuck her cold toes under Sandor's thigh, and got to work. 

"What's that?" Sandor was eyeing her skeptically. 

"What's what?" she glanced at him, still trying to figure out how to do the calculus problem. She'd scribbled down the examples during class, but they weren't making any sense anymore. 

"That." he pointed to her thick, heavy textbook. She lifted it up and showed him the cover, which was a bright graph in funky colors. 

"Calculus." 

"Aren't you suppose to be dumb?" he went back to looking at the tv screen. She gasped and threw her pencil at him, striking him in the temple. He glared at her. 

"Take it back." 

"No." he crossed his arms. "You know that's the image you try to project." 

"It is not," she said hotly and he rolled his eyes. 

"I'm Sansa Stark and all I care about is nail polish and my Chanel purse. Why won't daddy let me model for Calvin Klein? It's just not fair!"

"That's not who I am." she gave him a little kick with her feet and he caught her, eyes intense. 

"No? Then why does everyone think of you that way?" 

"Because being in calculus isn't.... Cool," she admitted, trying very hard to ignore that his thumb was going back and forth over her foot. She would've thought it tickled but it was mostly making it hard for her to breathe. 

"And that's what you care about. Looking cool," he pressed and she shrugged. 

"Sure. I'll look cool. Happy? But it looks good on a college application." 

"Oh, so the pretty little bird is going to college." he abruptly let go of her and she drew her knees up to her chest. 

"That's what's expected of us," she remarked and his grey eyes were on her in a second, hot and angry. 

"You, princess, that's what is expected of you. Nothing is expected of me." 

"I expected you to do something," she found herself saying and he leaned towards her, making her stomach flip. 

"And just what the hell do you expect of me?" 

* * *

Fuck, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so bad, the way she sat there with a blanket pooled around her waist and her bare toes tucked under him for warmth. She looked.... Domestic. Like this was normality for them, to come home and watch TV and do homework, like they were the fucking Joneses. 

And that was why he was mad. This was a fantasy world and she was an idiot for not seeing it. He didn't belong here. He would never be able to provide her with this. If, by some miracle, they made it through the hell of this high school, Sansa's detour to college while he worked his ass off just to get free of his shitty home, and managed to come back together, this wouldn't be how it was. 

He couldn't afford a big mansion. The nicest and latest car. Her fancy clothes and her makeup and nice food. He could hardly afford a gas station cheeseburger for himself as it was. He couldn't buy her gifts or take her shopping or go on vacations to Mexico or Martha's fucking Vineyard. He could take her to bad parties with bad music and bad drinks, and he could kiss her like she was the only thing that stopped him from burning himself up. 

"You're good at shop," she said carefully, not quite meeting his gaze. He was sure it was because he looked so angry. And he was so angry, but he didn't know how to tell her that it wasn't at her. It was at everything. "Why don't you do something with that?" 

"Like what?" he challenged, mostly out of spite. He was sure she'd blow him off, make up something lame and then change the subject. But she riled up, pushing her shoulders back and leaning towards him, blue eyes bright. 

"Like getting an apprenticeship at a mechanic's shop. Or with a contractor. My dad knows guys, he would get you in. You like working with your hands." her cheeks tinged pink at the implications of her words and it was fucking adorable, but he remained angry, turning back to the TV and going through the channels so fast the faces and scenes became a blur. 

"I don't need his fucking help. I don't need your fucking help." 

"Everyone needs help," she stated, exasperated.

"Yeah, not fucking me." he kept scrolling. 

"Why is it when I use my privilege for myself you get all pissed off at me but when I try to use it to do the same thing for you, suddenly that's not okay either?" when he didn't respond, she threw a pillow at him. 

"Because I'm not your fucking pet project!" he yelled and she shrank back. "Because I don't need you and I don't need your daddy and I don't need anything! I'll do it for myself, I always have." 

"You don't have to," she said quietly, her hand reaching out and touching his arm. For a second, he let himself dream. He would graduate and get a job working in construction. Hard work, but he wouldn't have teachers telling him what to learn and how stupid he was for not getting it. Sansa coming home on weekends, maybe to his little one bedroom apartment he could afford. Her moving home, getting a job here. And then maybe something more. Something that felt like a real future, one with hope. 

"You don't have to do shit for me," he muttered, looking down at his knees. Sansa pushed her homework off her lap and crawled over to him, practically sitting in his lap so that she could tilt his head up and get a better look into his eyes. 

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want to?" 

* * *

She loved kissing him. It was the best thing she'd ever done in her entire life. They could yell at each other all they wanted, as long as it always ended up like this. His hands were all tangled up in her hair, pulling ever so slightly, and she never wanted him to stop. But kneeling on the couch, awkwardly leaning into him, was getting really uncomfortable. So she pulled back slightly, readjusting herself.

The best course of action seemed to be crawling on top of his lap, straddling him. So that’s what she did.

“Fuck.” Sandor’s hands went to her hips and held her slightly above him, so that she hovered.

“What?” she leaned back in concern, searching his face. He looked almost pained, which seemed strange.

“You.” he swallowed and his hands slowly moved from her hips up her waist, lowering her inch by inch. For a fevered second, she wondered if he thought they were going to have sex. If she wanted them to have sex. But then he reached up and tilted her head forward, so that he could kiss just the tip of her nose. “Fuck, you.”

“Me?” she kissed his nose back. He jerked slightly, like he was surprised by the affection in the gesture, but didn’t protest when Sansa began to kiss his cheeks, then his jaw, then his ears. He even gave a low hum of approval when she kissed his neck. “What about me?”

“Don’t start this with me,” he muttered and she gasped when she felt his teeth on her collarbone through her shirt. “Don’t start with that shit.”

“Because I’m trying to get you to tell me what you like about me?” Sansa did want to know. She still wasn’t sure what this was to him, even if she knew herself that she wanted more with him.

“It’s a shitty game you play. Making me confess shit so that you have power over me.” his fingers were cold and they were up under her shirt. It gave her goosebumps, in the best sort of way.

“I don’t have any power over you,” she insisted and he held her gaze as he very slowly and carefully pulled her shirt off.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“What sort of power do I have?” she questioned him, shivering as the cold air hit the bare flesh of her back. In a second Sandor had pulled her closer to him, to where heat radiated off him.

“You make me do dumb shit.”

“You do dumb shit by yourself,” she laughed and Sandor’s hands roamed from her back to her stomach, gliding slowly upwards.

“We got into this dumb shit together,” he murmured, kissing her again, “and I followed you.”

She lost her ability to think straight for the next half hour and was quite certain that she was never going to get in back again.

* * *

It was taking everything in him not to run through a wall with sheer frustration. He wanted more, to do more to her, to have her do things to him, to achieve release, but he held himself back. He focused all his energy and attention onto Sansa, laying on the couch. He was behind her, her back pressed to his chest, so that he could easily wrap his arm around his and run his fingers down to the line of her panties. Sansa, blushing as red as her hair, was alternating between kissing him and soft little gasps whenever he happened upon something that felt extra good.

How the hell was he not suppose to want to devour her?

He buried his face in her neck, fingers still moving back and forth in a slow but steady rhythm. He couldn’t handle her achieving her pleasure, not when his dick was so hard he feared one sudden movement might snap it off. It didn’t help that the alignment of their bodies meant that her ass was pressing back into him and she would make little moments here and there that thrilled him.

He took his time with her. Made it right. Made it good. What she deserved. Not a quick fuck and him leaving. He didn’t like to dwell on the implications of this, that this was boyfriend and girlfriend shit. Not when all it took was one little sigh of his name from her lips and he would gladly do nothing but this for however long the universe decided that his life would be.

“Sandor,” she breathed and he couldn’t help that his hips lurched forward, hungry for her. A second later she was gasping, her hips moving almost spastically. He let out a long breath, glad that his torture was over. Now he’d excuse himself to one of the twenty bathrooms this place had and defile this memory as soon as he humanly could. After a couple moments, her twitching subsided and he withdrew his hand, a bit mournfully. But then Sansa turned and kissed him before he could even move.

“I, uh,” he tried to explain, but then he inhaled so sharply his heart skipped a beat. Sansa’s fingers, her long, thin fingers, were at the buttons of his jeans. In a gesture done so quickly it almost seemed practiced, she had it undone and his zipper down. With an almost greedy energy, she reached down and pulled out his dick, stroking it with steady, smooth strokes. His vision went black with relief and he stopped breathing. 

She didn’t seem to the most experienced, but he didn’t need her to be. The fact that it was happening at all was enough. Except, he realized with a flash of horror, that he was fast losing the ability to control himself. With more regret than he’d ever had before, he sat up, gingerly set her aside, and raced as quickly as he could in this awkward position to the bathroom.

When he went back to her, his lower body still feeling a bit electric, Sansa was sitting up on the couch with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He saw, with worry, that she looked a bit sad. He hoped like hell it wasn’t because of him as he came to sit down by her. He wouldn’t blame her if she regretted this - the first time was probably a fluke and now he’d made it happen again and this wasn’t who she was because she—

“I wanted to do it.”

“What?” he stared at her in confusion. Her cheeks were flaming but she pressed resolutely on.

“I wanted to…. Finish you. Like you do for me.”

“It’s messy,” he reminded her, shocked into honesty instead of a witty retort.

“So?” she tossed her hair back. “I want to.”

“Next time?” he suggested, almost jokingly and she blushed as she kissed him.

“Alright.” she agreed, cuddling into him. “Let’s watch a movie and then I’ll take you home. All the way home.”

“All the way home?” dread was coiling in his stomach, ruining the pleasurable haze that was the after. Sansa snuggled into his chest, wrapping the blanket around him.

“All the way.”

* * *

"Are you going to tell me when to turn?" Sansa broke the silence of the car as they neared the neighborhood where she usually dropped him off. Sandor had gone silent when they'd left her driveway and now he wouldn't even look at her, instead staring out at the deluge still coming down. 

"Yeah." 

"Are you going to tell me before it happens so I don't have to slam on the brakes?" she suggested and he turned to look at her. 

"Left here." 

"Okay." she spun the wheel and went left, looking out the window. It seemed like every house she went by had something rather scary with it, either broken windows covered up with boards, cars out front on blocks, or lawns so tall she couldn't imagine what might lurk in them. 

"Right here." 

"Okay." again they turned and Sansa steeled herself. The homes were getting worse, stacked atop each other with little more than dirt for yards. They bumped over the train tracks and a few houses later, he told her, 

"Stop." 

"Here?" it wasn't the worst house on the block. The yard wasn't completely overgrown and it didn't look ready to collapse any minute. She looked at Sandor to get confirmation, but he was squinting out the window intently. She opened her mouth to ask, but then gasped as the front door swung open. 

Two bodies came out of the doorway, spilling into the rain. A third followed, waving something wildly. Sansa was too stunned to even understand what was happening at first, but then things slowly came into focus. The two men were fighting, while a woman bounced around them, occasionally trying to separate them and falling back whenever she failed. 

"Jesus fuck," Sandor muttered, like he'd completely forgotten she was in the car. Sansa reached for him, briefly, but he was already opening the door and getting out. She wondered, for a brief second, if she should stay, but then she got out as well, following him, wrapping her coat around herself in a vain attempt to stay warm and dry.

“Sandor,” she called out in a panic when it became clear that he was going to try to break the fight up or at least restrain the woman.

“Get in the car!” he yelled as he grabbed the woman and pulled her back. Sansa stopped, absolutely sure the last thing she wanted to do was leave him. The two interlocked figures stumbled and in the weak lights from the house, she realized that it could only be his father and his brother. They both had the same build as Sandor, massively tall and broad shoulder, but that was where the similarities ended. They were both much larger than he was and very clearly drunk and violently so.

“Stop it!” the woman shrieked, waving the ladle again like that was going to do anything. “Stop it!”

“Mom, go inside,” Sandor was trying to tell her but she was clearly ignoring him. Sansa watched with horror as Sandor’s brother landed a punch on his father’s face and a sickening snap went through the air. His father stumbled and his mother broke free of Sandor, going to step between her son and husband.

And that was when Sansa realized Sandor’s brother would hit his own mother and she felt sick.

* * *

Sandor could handle Gregor and his father fighting. That was their own shit. He never wanted to get caught in the middle of that. But his mother was where he drew the line. For as big a bitch as she was, for as much as she denied him the love and caring that most mothers gave their children, she was still half the size of Gregor and twice as old as well. She didn’t deserve to be beaten, not when Sandor was sure Gregor had just broken their father’s nose.

He tried to pull her back, but she was gone too quickly. He had no choice but to follow her as she went for his dad and Gregor turned. Sandor managed to yank her back but Gregor’s attention was then turned to him. He braced himself for the punch, readied for pain.

But it never came.

He cracked his eye open and realized with pure terror that it was because Gregor was staring in confusion at him. At his chest, more accurately, and the person who stood in front of it. Sansa had her arms spread wide, almost like she was going to embrace Gregor, except that he knew it was to protect him. Gregor blinked a few times, his stupid little brain likely trying to work out who she was. Then, to Sandor’s shock, he grumbled something and turned to walk away.

Sandor picked Sansa up bodily and ran for it. He wasn’t sure who was trembling harder, her or him. He yanked the car door open and roughly threw her inside before Gregor could come back. His brother was walking away, a large figure in the pouring rain, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be back. His parents were going back inside, as though this was absolutely normal.

“What—“ his voice couldn’t sound steady if he willed it to. “—the hell were you thinking?”

“He….” Sansa could only stammer, blinking. “He, he, he…. Hit…. Dad…. You, you, you.”

“Sansa.” he tried to turn the car on to get some heat going. They were both soaked and he was sure not only was she in shock but probably also freezing. “Sansa, listen to me. Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He was going to hit you.” Sansa snapped out of it instantly and he felt a lump in his throat. He couldn’t comprehend her defending him, being willing to do such a thing. Had everyone ever?

“He would’ve hit you!” he could see it playing out in his mind’s eye. If Gregor had hit her, Sandor would have had no choice but to kill him. The only bruises he ever wanted Sansa to have were those were where his lips had touched her.

“But he didn’t.” Sansa’s arms were snaking around him into a hug and he couldn’t help that he relaxed into her easily, the tension running out of his body for a moment. “You’re coming home with me.”

“I can’t.” he pulled back to look at her in confusion. She was suddenly business-like, clambering into the driver’s seat and starting the car up. Heat washed over him.

“Says who?”

“Your parents, most likely.” he glanced back at his house. “This is my fucking life Sansa. I told you it wasn’t a pretty little picture like yours.”

“You’ve seen my life.” Sansa put the car into gear. “You know it’s not perfect. But there is no way in hell I can leave you here. So you have two options. Either we leave right now or we leave in ten minutes once you go inside and get your stuff.”

* * *

Sansa couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep if she tried. Because downstairs, in the smallest bedroom that was mostly used for storage, Sandor was sleeping. The entire way back to her house, her hands had trembled. She’d gripped the steering wheel so tightly to hide it that it felt like she’d cut circulation off to them. Then she’d brought Sandor inside and showed him to the little bedroom. Her dad would never think to look in there and they’d be up and out in the morning with no one the wiser.

The only relaxation she got was knowing that Sandor was somewhere safe. That he wasn’t stuck in that awful house with his terrifying father and even scarier brother. Every time she shut her eyes, she could still see the horrible way that he’d loomed over Sandor and fear would make her open her eyes again, just to make sure that it wasn’t real, that they were home safe again.

She couldn’t lay down. Too much energy was coursing through her, so she rose and paced for a bit. She didn’t know what to do, so she found herself anxiously organizing the makeup on her dresser, the brushes and the little compacts. When she was done there, she went to her jewelry, and then finally her closet. With an almost frantic energy, she went through it, pulling out things that did or didn’t belong, until she had a huge pile of clothes and shoes she never wore anymore.

It was early morning before she fell back into bed and slept fitfully until her alarm beckoned her to rise.

She crept downstairs, glancing into her parents’ room to confirm that her mother was still passed out asleep and that her father had already left for the day. Then she went to the spare bedroom where Sandor was and knocked softly on the door. After a few moments, it swung open and he was there.

For a second, Sansa forgot how to speak. It was like she was looking at a completely different person, though he hadn’t changed in the slightest since she’d seen him last night. Same teeshirt. Same flannel. Same jeans and old boots. His hair was messier and pushed back with his bandana, eyes still blinking like she’d woken him up.

But she saw him now. She saw a boy trying to protect his mother. She saw him looking so small in comparison to his father and brother. She remembered the words he’d said to them about beatings and burnings and how Gendry had dismissed those as ways to further his tough boy image. But she’d seen a vulnerable Sandor, scared, and she hated that she’d ever doubted him.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“Morning,” he muttered.

“Want breakfast?” she offered and he seemed to perk up a bit.

“Sure I don’t need to go before we get caught?”

“Dad already left. Mom’s passed out upstairs. And Mordy is always late.” Sansa turned and started for the kitchen. “I can’t make much, but I can do scrambled eggs. How’s that?”

“Delicious.” he followed her and Sansa hoped that he was watching her ass in the shorts she wore as pajamas.

“Good.” she grabbed a pan from the rack and went to the stove. “Grab some from the fridge, will you?”

* * *

It was incredibly odd to have Sansa making him breakfast. He was sitting at the counter, uncertain if he should help her or just shut up and not take any of this for granted. She was at the stove, cracking eggs like it was easy. She had on an almost sheer shirt and tiny little shorts. He actively had to stop himself from doing or saying anything stupid, especially when she turned and smiled at him.

“How’d you learn to cook?” he asked, for lack of anything better to say and because he needed to stop thinking about her ass.

“This isn’t cooking.” she laughed. “This is scrambled eggs. They were Robb’s favorite hangover food, and when Mordy was gone on Sundays, I had to make them for him. It’s about the only thing I do know how to make, other than toast. Do you want toast?”

“Eggs are fine.” he couldn’t imagine her cooking for her drunk brother.

“We’ve got milk and orange juice and stuff in the fridge.” she gestured with the spatula. “Help yourself.”

“I’m fine.” he actually really did want a big glass of milk.

“Seriously, get some.” she gave him a strict look. “I have to go upstairs and get ready.”

“What, not wearing that to school?” he mocked and she slid the eggs onto a plate, setting it in front of him.

“No. This is only for you.” with a grin, she flounced up the stairs. He didn’t taste the first several bites of the eggs because his brain could only think about a one Sansa Stark.

He finished his breakfast, ended up getting himself a large glass of milk, rinsed out all his dishes in the sink, and then went back to the weird closet/bedroom and folded all his things up nicely in the corner before he finally cracked and headed upstairs to see what the hell Sansa was doing. He nearly went into the wrong bedroom three or four times before he found hers.

She was sitting at her makeup table, applying a last little bit of lipstick. A pretty pink skirt spilled over her knees with a matching sweater and little flats. For a moment, he was reminded again of just who she was - a beautiful rich girl with a house so big that she could hide him away and no one would ever be any wiser. But then she looked at him and smiled and it felt like the world was going to make an allowance for them alone. She had such a sweet smile that it melted him each time.

“Why do you wear that shit?” he found himself demanding. “You’re fine without it.”

“Tell that to my friends.” she smiled as she capped the lipstick and got up. “They think that it’s necessary.”

“Yeah, but when you’ve got all the shit on your lips, I can’t do this.” he crossed her bedroom and gave her a kiss that she didn’t break. She pressed herself up against him and threw her arms around the back of his neck. He held her close and it felt like any of his anger from last night was leeching out of him slowly. She always felt like a safe place to be amongst a storm.

“We should go,” she finally whispered to him, leaving a kiss on his cheek as she backed away. “Or we’re going to be late for school?”

“You think I give a fuck about school?” he’d skip anything if it meant staying here and kissing her all day.

“I do.” one final kiss that left his head spinning and then she was pulling him out of the house.

* * *

Sansa had to fix her blouse two or three times. Kissing Sandor usually made her blush and sent her whole body aflame. She was sure she looked less than presentable. She wondered if anyone would say anything to her if they saw her. What if someone saw them coming to school together, or that he had the faintest bit of lipstick still on his neck from where she’d been unable to resist herself?

He didn’t look like he was having any of these worries at all. He sat in her passenger seat, looking out the window as the houses and buildings slipped by as they drove past. He was quiet, but that wasn’t unlike him. Sansa wondered what he was thinking, if she’d done the right thing. She cleared her throat to try and get him attention, but he remained silent so she took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“So, uh, I have prom stuff after school today. But after you’re done with Sam, we can go back to my house?”

“What?” he looked at her quizzically.

“My house,” she repeated and he blinked then gave a little shrug.

“It’s fine. I’ll go home.”

“You’re not going back to your house.” the very idea filled her with dread.

“Why not?” he asked with genuine confusion and she nearly ran a red light as she stared at him in horror.

“Are you kidding me? After what happened last night?”

“It’s fine.” he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “It’s warm enough out to sleep in the shed.”

“The shed?” she couldn’t even comprehend him sleeping in a shed. “You have a bedroom at my house!”

“It’s not my bedroom.” for some reason, he was looking at her like she’d grown two heads. Sansa couldn’t understand what the hell for. “I don’t live with you Sansa.”

“Well you should!” she wasn’t even really aware what she was saying. “If you’re going to be in…. In danger!”

“That’s just my fucking house.” he was getting angry, but she was at loss as to why. “That’s my fucking life Sansa. And it’s not your job to fix it!”

“But I like you!” she burst. “And you can’t be there! It’s too scary.”

“Maybe for a little rich girl like you.” he gave a hollow laugh. “But it’s where I grew up. It’s fine. I can hold my own. I don’t need you to save me. I’m not a fucking pet project for you to take on and then forget about in two months when you get sick of me.”

“That’s what you think I’ll do?” Sansa felt tears prick her eyes. After everything, after all this, did he really think that she was that shallow? That she was really that awful? That she was doing this for any other reason than the fact she thought that maybe, just maybe, she loved him and that if he was in pain, she would be too?

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sandor opened the car door before she was even fully parked. “You only want me because I’m exactly what you don’t have.” then he slammed the door and left her to cry quietly in her car.

* * *

“So are you going to prom?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Sandor grimaced as he slid wood through the saw carefully. Sam was chattering over his shoulder and he really wished the kid would shut up. He’d been in a foul mood all day, since this morning with Sansa when something dark and insidious had spoken from deep inside him and he’d turned her away, maybe for good. How the fuck else could he fix this?

“Well, I don’t know.” Sam twiddled his thumbs before shooting him a knowing look. “Maybe Sansa….?”

“What the fuck about her?” Sandor turned the saw off. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself with it when they were talking about her.

“Well, I thought you guys were….” Sam trailed off, confusion in his voice. “I thought maybe something was, you know, something.”

“Well you were fucking wrong, weren’t you?” he went to get sandpaper. “Fucking wrong.”

“I’m going,” Sam ventured, in what seemed to be a list ditch attempt to change the subject away from something that clearly made Sandor angry.

“With who?” Sandor would be damned if he wasn’t curious as to which girl in this school was going to go with Sam as a date.

“A bunch of us from physics club are going to go,” he explained and Sandor rolled his eyes. That tracked. “And, uh, there’s this girl, uh, Gilly.”

“Silly?” Sandor glanced over his shoulder at him, stunned. Sam was red from head to toe, abashedly looking at his feet.

“No, Gilly,” Sam corrected. “We’re going as a big group, no dates really, but uh, I’m going to match my tie to her dress.” he looked up at Sandor with a hopeful smile that even Sandor couldn’t bring himself to crush.

“Get her a bottle of wine,” he advised, going back to his woodworking. “Girls like wine.”

“Oh, we’re not going to drink,” Sam said quickly. “We’re going back to Glen’s house after and his mom, uh, is going to make us pizza and we’re going to just watch movies. Nothing like that.”

“Sam.” Sandor turned to him, exasperated. “Listen, you don’t have to be a fuckup like me in life. But would having fun for once really kill you?”

“Pizza is fun,” Sam said defensively, “and I’m not getting Gilly wine if she doesn’t want to drink. It’s just prom. We’re meant to just go together.”

“But don’t you want her to like you?” Sandor stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Only if she wants to like me. And if she likes me, then that’s great. Because she’s a great girl.” Sam turned on a drill and they were both silent.

* * *

A bit more hairspray. That was the answer. She gave herself another spritz, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She’d done her own makeup, which was just a bit more exotic version of what she wore everyday. It was prom, but she didn’t care that much. She and Sandor hadn’t spoken at all since their fight on Thursday morning. She’d left him a lunch yesterday, but when she’d pretended to need to talk to someone during lunch hour and had ducked outside in search of him, he hadn’t been anywhere in sight. It was bothering her.

She never expected him to come to prom anyways. This was never something they’d do together. But she would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t thought about it, just a little bit. Him in a suit. Her in her dress. Flowers. Dancing to her kind of music all night, even if it made him roll his eyes. Slow songs together where she could listen to his heartbeat with her head on his chest.

But that wasn’t going to happen, she reminded herself sternly. They were never going to make it work and she was an idiot for thinking that they would. She’d almost convinced herself that maybe she did only like him because he was the opposite of everything she should’ve liked. But she knew it wasn’t true, not when she was still thinking about the way he kissed her.

She was just putting on her lipstick when her phone rang. For a second her heart jumped into her throat with unspoken hope, but then she remembered she’d never given Sandor her number. And what the hell would he be calling her for today anyways?

“Hello?”

“Sansa!” Margaery seemed moments away from a panic attack. Sansa almost rose out of her chair. “You’re never going to believe who Gendry is taking to prom!”

“Who?” she sat back down, reassured there wasn’t a true emergency, just Margaery being dramatic.

“That freak girl, Arya!”

“What?” that did stun Sansa.

“Yeah! Jeyne said that Alla heard from Elinor who got it from Alyce that he told Megga he wasn’t taking her because he was going with her!”

“Poor Megga.” Sansa imagined that the sweet girl would be devastated. She’d had her heart set on Gendry since seventh grade and this was going to be her crowning achievement.

“Screw Megga. I can’t wait to see what that girl wears!”

“Yeah, me too.” Sansa didn’t mean it with malice like her friend; she really did wonder if Arya had a dress or if she’d show up with messy hair and her stained shoes. She also had a bit of sadness, that Gendry was being brave enough to bring the person he liked and Sansa was stuck thinking about the only person she would’ve wanted to take her.

“Will I see you at my house in an hour for pictures?” Margery demanded. “I invited Gendry and her. I have to see her before the promenade.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Sansa sighed, looking at the dress she’d laid out on her bed.

“Can’t wait!” Margaery hung up and Sansa set the phone down. She was just stepping into her dress when the doorbell rang.

* * *

He felt like a moron. What sort of prick just showed up on the porch on the day of prom? What is she was getting ready somewhere else? What if she wasn’t home? What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she turned him away, or worse, laughed in his face? She had every right to. It wasn’t like he’d been the nicest to her the last time they spoke and now he was probably going to make it worse.

He shifted uncomfortably, waiting for someone to open the door to her huge house. Her nanny would be the best. Her mom wouldn’t be terrible. But if it was her father, he’d have to start talking and quickly to explain what the hell he was doing. He wondered if her parents would be home for prom. If they even cared that it was the biggest day of the year for their daughter.

The door opened and he braced himself for the worst.

“Can I help you?” it wasn’t Ned or Cat or Mordane that opened the door. It was a man Sandor had never seen before; he was young, probably in his early 20’s if he had to guess. Bright blue eyes and messy auburn hair. He was wearing jeans and a teeshirt, one hand holding a beer, and a perplexed expression on his face.

“Robb?” Sandor guessed and his face creased.

“Uh, yeah? Who are you?”

“Sandor Clegane,” he replied slowly and he saw the flash of recognition in his eyes. He guessed that he was a bit younger than Gregor, but old enough to remember the last name.

“Why the hell are you at my house?” Robb demanded and Sandor looked down at himself. He’d managed to find an old suit of his dad’s, with plain black pants and a plain black jacket. It didn’t fit him quite right, but it was as good as he was going to get when he’d dragged himself out of bed this morning and conceded to the fact that he in love with Sansa Stark. And being in love with her meant doing bullshit like that.

“Prom?”

“Prom.” Robb gave a little laugh. “I thought Sansa’s date was that shithead, Redwyne.”

“Redwyne?” Sandor knew him. A huge, hulking, dull as sin football player. The idea of him holding Sansa’s hand or receiving a kiss on the cheek from him made him want to shove Robb over and go beg her to go with him.

“She know you’re here?” Robb leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips. Sandor hesitated, but he knew there was no point in lying. Sansa would give it away.

“No.”

“And you think you’re taking my baby sister to prom?” Robb was still blocking the doorway. “Tell me why.”

“Because she deserves better than Slobber,” he said honestly, “and I’m not shit, but at least I like her and see her for more than the prom queen that she pretends she is.”

“Uh.” Robb regarded him for a moment. “Well, I did tell her to look outside the box. SANSA! YOUR DATE IS HERE!”

* * *

Robb yelling that Hobber Redwyne was here was about enough to do Sansa in. She didn’t want to go with him, but lack of better prospects had led Margaery to put them together. She promised Sansa that she’d run interference all night, but Sansa suspected that she’d be hammered before the dance even started. She would have to third wheel with Arya and Gendry all night and hope that it wasn’t weird.

“Be there in a minute!” she yelled back down the stairs. He was early, which was annoying. He probably wanted to drive down some deserted lane and try to feel her up. Her cheeks flushed as she thought about when she had let a boy feel her up in a car but she pushed the thought from her mind. Sandor wasn’t here and comparing every little thing to him wasn’t going to make it better.

She had her dress on, but not her jewelry. Her grandmother had left her a pearl necklace when she’d died that Sansa only wore on the most special of occasions. Prom didn’t seem all that special anymore, but she needed something to smile about today. She carefully clasped it and adjusted it, looking herself over in the mirror once more. Another swipe of lipstick and then she snatched her heels off her bed.

“Well?” Sansa stood at the top of the stairs, trying to buckle her heels. Robb stood at the bottom of the stairs, grinning all too smugly.

“Well what?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t do that.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Where is he?”

“Your prom date?” Robb took another drink of his beer. “He’s in the living room, awaiting your magnificent entrance.”

“Why did you come home for this if you’re just going to make fun of me?” she questioned, cranky. He caught her in a hug when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Even with the heels, he stood a full head taller than her.

“How could I miss your prom? Besides, there’s always a ton of good parties this weekend.”

“You’re in college now,” Sansa reminded him and he waved a hand.

“Whatever. Are you going to go see your date?” he looked mischievous in a way that Sansa didn’t quite trust.

“I don’t really want to,” she admitted quietly and Robb’s smirk only grew. It was beginning to make her very, very nervous.

“Oh, trust me, you have no idea what’s coming.”

“I think I do,” she hissed at him, walking towards the living room. “His nickname is Slobber for a reason and it’s not because he….”

All her words trailed off when she entered the living room and saw that it wasn’t Hobber Redwyne that was waiting for her, shifting back and forth awkwardly in a suit. It was her Sandor Clegane.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how Sansa always managed to stop him dead. Surely, at some point, her allure was going to wear off and she’d stop being so stunning all the time. But not today. Not when her hair was curled around her face and those blue eyes he loved so much were wide in shock, her utterly kissable lips stained a bright red and currently forming a perfect, shocked O.

She had on a dress that actually made him want to sit down. Strapless and black velvet, the neckline followed her curves so that just a bit of her chest peeked out enticingly. The skirt was a white pattern with flowers, grazing her ankles ever so slightly. Black shoes peeked out from under it and she’d painted her nails white to match it. She looked unreal.

“Sandor?” she broke the spell with a voice that trembled, ever so slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t want you going to prom with Slobber,” he answered, the first thing that came to mind, then cringed. That wasn’t at all how he wanted it to sound. “I mean, I’m sorry, I wanted to talk to you and—“

“Hold on.” she cut him off and he shut up, worried that she was going to dismiss him. Then she turned to Robb, who was sitting on the couch with his beer and watching them like they were the latest in primetime viewing. “Can you get the hell out?”

“No, it’s just starting to get good,” Robb said innocently and Sansa aimed a kick. He yelped and scrambled before she made contact, laughing the entire time. Sandor watched with a bit of awe; had he ever done such a thing with Gregor and not assumed immediate and horrible consequences for it? Then Sansa turned back to him, blushing.

“I’m sorry, he’s such an ass.”

“He seems nice,” he said quietly and saw that Sansa’s face fell a little, when she must have realized what it was like for him to see two siblings who actually liked each other.

“You’re dressed like you’re ready for prom,” she remarked, approaching him slowly and carefully.

“I wanted to take you,” he mumbled. “I…. Didn’t like the idea of you going with…. That other guy.”

“Slobber?” Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Don’t.” he looked at her helplessly as she drew closer. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m making you say it.” she was close enough to touch. “I need to hear it. Especially if you keep pushing me away.”

“I don’t mean to push you away, I’m just not use to all this.” she smelled so sweet, he wanted to bury himself in her and never breathe anything else again.

“Then tell me and we can get use to it together.” one of her hands rested on his cheek. Her eyes searched his and if she would stretch up a little bit, she could kiss him.

“Because I like you, Sansa Stark,” he whispered and the happiness that went through her face inspired him to say more. “I really like you. And sometimes I think - fuck - that I might love you.”

“I know,” she whispered back and then kissed him.

* * *

“I don’t feel bad,” she stated, as Sandor opened the door to the car for her.

“Don’t you?” he made sure that her skirt wasn’t going to get caught in the door.

“Nope.” Sansa touched her lipstick up in the mirror; half of it had rubbed up in her aggressive kissing of Sandor. “He can’t give us three minutes of privacy, then he can deal with Slobber coming to get me and me being long gone.”

“I thought he was going to kick my ass,” Sandor revealed, sliding into the car as well. Sansa grinned at him.

“Please. You’re the type of guy he’s been telling me to date for ages.”

“And what’s that, a piece of shit?” he snarked and Sansa caught his jaw, pulling him towards her for one last kiss.

“Fun.”

“Fun,” he scoffed, as they backed away from the house and started towards Margaery’s. “I’m not fun.”

“No.” Sansa patted his knee. “You’re very tough.”

“Damn right,” he muttered and she bit back a smile.

“Speaking of tough, you’ll never believe who Gendry is taking to prom.” she squirmed in her seat, unable to sit still in her happiness. It felt like today was going to be perfect.

“Arya,” he stated and she gaped at him.

“How’d you know?”

“Guessed,” he admitted with a tiny smile. “But I figured he would. Something to be said about wanting to spend the day with a person you actually like.”

“Is that why you saved me from Slobber?” she was so completely happy to be rid of her old date that waves of relief kept flowing over her.

“I saved you from Slobber because if the kid so much as smiled at the way that dress makes you look, I’d have to knock him out,” Sandor stated bluntly and Sansa practically melted in her seat.

“He can go with Megga,” she declared happily. “Gendry stood her up anyways. They’d almost make a cute couple. I’ll tell her to go collect him from Robb.”

“You’re kind of a brat, do you know that?” the way he said it, with affection and admiration mixed in, made Sansa smirk.

“Maybe, but only because I always get what I want.”

* * *

“Sandor!” Gendry’s face was startled, but Sandor was glad to see a familiar face first. Margaery’s house was as big if not bigger than Sansa’s and it seemed like a hundred cars were out front. Sandor rather wanted to jack one and run instead of sitting around amongst the crowd, but Sansa was right beside him and he was doing it for her.

“Arya!” Sansa’s voice had the same amount of shock he was feeling. Arya stood next to Gendry in a very simple dress. It wasn’t formfitting, but it was grey instead of black and her hair was pushed back from her face with a headband. She didn’t look as formal as Sansa, but she looked nice and that was what surprised him the most. “You look…. Amazing!”

“Thanks.” Arya looked uncomfortable with the praise but when Sansa was telling Gendry how nice he looked as well, Arya gave him a little look.

“Don’t start,” he warned her and she smirked, sticking her hands in her pockets and looking at the house with him.

“You must like her to be here.”

“Only as much as you like him,” he retorted and she nodded at that.

“If anyone says anything mean to me, I’ve got pepper spray.”

“That’s the prom spirit,” he answered and she grinned.

“C’mon, let’s go inside.” Sansa slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. He gave the formidable house one last resentful look then reluctantly let Sansa pull him up the stairs and through the double doors into the entry. It was several stories tall, it seemed, and every surface glistened with some form of crystal. There were a bunch of girls in huge dresses of taffeta or silk swanning around and giggling. A few guys in suits lounged around the kitchen.

“This is my hell,” he told Sansa, in case she got any ideas that he was doing that for any other reason than it would make her happy.

“Is it wrong if I saw it’s mine too?” she muttered, pressing into him.

“We could leave now,” he suggested. “I’ve got my weed, we could go sit in the car, I could get that skirt up and—”

“Sansa!” Margaery’s shrill yell cut through the moment and a blushing Sansa turned away from him towards her friend that was rushing for her. Margaery’s dress was a monstrous green thing, with massive shoulders and a huge bow. She enveloped Sansa in a hug, seemingly ignoring Sandor.

“You look so pretty,” Sansa remarked and Sandor snorted. Sansa shot him a look over Margaery’s shoulder and he sobered up, though he heard Arya and Gendry both trying to hide their snickering behind her.

“You do….” Margaery trailed off, staring at both Sandor and Arya. It was actually quite amusing, to see the confusion work itself out behind her mask of makeup, her skin creasing as she stared between Sansa and Sandor, occasionally looking at Arya and Gendry like it was a puzzle she was so close to putting the pieces together on.

“I’m thirsty,” Sandor said loudly, rubbing Sansa’s bare shoulder. “Do you want me to go get you some punch?”

“Yes please,” she said softly and he smirked at Margaery’s little gasp, going to the kitchen. He was here with Sansa Stark and no one could believe it. He thought it would piss him off, the disbelief from the small minded idiots she called her friends, but it didn’t. He was good enough for her and that made him feel like he was the king of the world, or at least high school.

* * *

Everyone was acting like Sansa had lost her damn mind. It was annoying the shit out of her. Margaery and Jeyne specifically were baffled to have found her on Sandor’s arm. The entire time at Margaery’s house, while the other parents had been cooing and taking photos, Sansa had tried to avoid their questions by hiding with Sandor or Arya. Sandor took it far better than she thought he would, and once he even slipped an arm around her and kissed her head like that was all normal.

She wanted to skip the promenade. It seemed so stupid and the idea of being in front of all those judgmental eyes while they questioned why she and Sandor were even together made her both irate and fearful. As if he could read her mind, Sandor reached into his suit coat and pulled out a joint, offering her it.

“You’re not getting my skirt up,” she warned him, even as she took it.

“No, that comes later,” he answered and she didn’t even both to deny it to him. They parked in the back and he lit the joint for her. She passed it to him, anxiously playing with her pearls.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she blurted out and he stared at her levelly.

“Ashamed of me again little bird?”

“No,” she said instantly and he looked down to avoid her seeing his smile. “I’m just saying, it’s stupid and dumb. I see that now.”

“Yeah, but it’s a high school thing.” he passed the joint back to her. “It’s a thing you want to do and if you want to do it, no matter how stupid or dumb it is, I’ll do it with you.”

“Because you like me?” she asked slyly and he gave her an exasperated look.

“You know I’m not going to say it often so don’t make me.”

“I won’t.” she reached over the console to kiss him. He tried to deepen it but she pulled back. The combination of nerves, the weed, and him in such close quarters was a dangerous mix and she knew it. “I’m just really, really glad that you’re here.”

“Like I was going to let Slobber get close to you,” he muttered and she smiled. “Now put my jacket on, it’s still cold out and you’re not wearing anything.”

“No, that comes later,” she remarked teasingly and saw the flash of naked want on his face for a moment before he held his coat up.

“Cover up, little bird, or that dress is coming off.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, wrapping herself in the warmth of his jacket. He watched her ground out the joint and shook his head, coming around to open her door for her.

“Ready?” he asked her and she entangled their fingers.

“I am now.”

* * *

When was the last time that Sandor had heard honest to god whispers about himself? He tossed his head like that was going to get rid of the annoying gossip and looked down at Sansa. She was talking quietly to Arya, likely because she was as much the target of whispers as they were. Gendry was a few people down, talking to some of his buddies. Every now and then they’d look at Arya for the briefest of seconds, like she was a witch and might curse them if they gave her the chance.

“Are we going to have to stop every ten feet for those pictures?” he asked her and she gave him an amused look.

“Are your parents here?”

“Fuck no.”

“Neither are mine.” she craned her neck over the sea of kids. “Unless Robb is out there.”

“Mine aren’t either,” Arya announced and Sansa gave her a pitying look. “Gendry’s are though.”

“How did they react to you?” Sandor asked her curiously and Arya gauged him for a second, like she was trying to see if he was being honest or making fun of her.

“They asked if he’d accidentally gotten me pregnant or why else would he be with someone like me?”

“Parents suck.” Sansa patted her shoulder. “And you don’t look pregnant at all.”

“Does she know that’s not a compliment?” Arya asked him as Sansa waved to someone, apparently ignoring them.

“I find it’s best to tell her that when she’s drunk,” he replied, “she’s usually more likely to listen to me.”

“Is that Sam?” Sansa demanded abruptly and Sandor looked.

“I’ll be damned.” it was Sam, on the arm of a pretty girl. Well, pretty might have been overstating it. She was plain but looked sweet and Sam kept staring at her like she was the sun. Sandor could at least relate to that.

“Go Sam.” Sansa nodded approvingly. “We’re up next, get in line.”

“What are they all saying?” he asked her quietly as Gendry and Arya fell in behind them.

“Who?” she straightened her skirt, avoiding his eyes.

“Everyone,” he responded and she glanced over her shoulder. Her friends were behind them and when they saw her looking, all quickly seemed to be busy talking amongst themselves.

“Who gives a fuck?” she asked briskly, fixing her necklace one final time and plastering a smile onto a face.

“You?” he suggested quietly and Sansa looked up at him, then stretched up to kiss him, long and hard, in front of everyone. He stared at her in awe when she pulled away. The whispering was tenfold, but Sansa didn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

“Not at all.”

* * *

Sansa was use to the attention. She got it every day from her classmates and from random men who looked twice at her when she walked through the mall. Today wasn’t any different, except for the fact that no one bothered to hide their staring. They gaped openly.

She gripped Sandor’s arm tightly. Not because she wasn’t good at walking in heels - she was. She’d been doing that since she was thirteen and had gotten her first pair against her father’s wishes. She’d strutted around the house in them while he’d argued with her mother over if she was old enough to be wearing them. It was a sad memory to look back on now. It wasn’t the shoes that made her knees shake but the intensity of everyone looking at them. She could almost hear their disapproving thoughts.

“Wait.” Sandor stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the stage that had been constructed. “We go up on that?”

“Yes?” Sansa glanced up at him, showing him the little card she had been clutching the entire time. She pulled him along, lest they hold up the line of couples behind them.

“Why?” he demanded, as a pair climbed the steps, handed the card to Mr. Lannister, and went to stand at the center.

“He announces us,” Sansa explained, trying to talk out of the corner of her mouth so that no one would be able to hear their conversation.

“I don’t want to talk to that fucking asshole.”

“I will talk to him,” she promised and saw the way his jaw set.

“Fucking christ, this prom thing.”

“You’re doing great,” she promised and he gave a humorless laugh. They reached the bottom of the steps and she worked to swallow her terror. None of it mattered anyways. Why did she care what any of them thought about her? It was pointless. All that matter was that she had Sandor. She repeated this to herself, over and over, before suddenly they were climbing onto the stairs.

“The….” she heard Tywin trail off, likely stunned by the appearance of Sandor. Sansa tried not to smile and failed, handing him the card. She didn’t have to look at Sandor to know that he was trying his hardest not to say or do anything.

“C’mon,” she whispered, guiding him to the small X on the stage. They stood there, smiling awkwardly out into the crowd. It seemed like an eternity before the dry voice of Tywin Lannister stated cooly,

“Sansa Stark, escorted by…. Sandor Clegane.”

They stood for a few seconds more, then turned and went for the stairs on the other side, descending them with only a bit of stumbling on Sansa’s part. Sandor clutched tightly to her hand. The last bit was short and had only a few disinterested people craning their necks to get a glimpse of couples they actually knew. Sansa waited until they’d rounded a corner before throwing herself into Sandor’s arms.

“I’m suddenly very glad for Samwell Tarly.”

“What the hell for?” he demanded suspiciously and she touched his cheek, smiling.

“If he hadn’t gotten you out of all those detentions you talked yourself into with Mr. Lannister, I’d have to had done that with Slobber. And I’m so happy it was with you.”

* * *

“Prom is a fucking wash,” he told Gendry, who was double fisting punch.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he agreed, tossing the cups into the trash and reaching for more. “Blows.”

“That shit have tequila in it or what?” Sandor watched apprehensively as Gendry downed more.

“Nah, I’m thirsty as hell. Arya likes to dance.”

"Really?” Sandor raised an eyebrow and Gendry laughed.

“Yeah actually. Except it’s the weirdest dance I’ve ever seen. She’s teaching Sam and his friends right now. Sansa getting ready with all the other girls?” he asked, using his tie to mop his forehead of any sweat.

“Apparently.” she’d disappeared two minutes ago with an apology and a kiss on the cheek when they'd summoned prom queen candidates. Sandor would never, ever admit it, but he was actually sort of enjoying the prom thing. The walk and pictures had been a fucking joke, but the dance hadn’t been bad, not when he and Sansa had found a dark corner away from everyone else for a bit.

“Think she’ll win?” Gendry asked conversationally and Sandor glanced at him.

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Dunno.” Gendry shrugged. “But good thing all the voting ending on Wednesday. I’m not sure she’d win with you on her arm.”

“Oi,” Sandor replied warningly and Gendry grinned, punching his shoulder.

“Just think, a month ago you were teasing her for being the prom queen. Look where we’re at now.”

“I’ll still drop you,” Sandor warned him and Gendry grinned, before the DJ tapped the mic a few times and cut the music. Everyone groaned in protest until he announced that the votes were in and the prom king and queen were going to be crowned. Sansa stood on the stage with her friends. He watched quietly as a sparkling tiara was unveiled. After some pomp and bullshit, the crowd quieted in anticipation.

“Your prom queen is…. Margaery Tyrell!”

She cried, she dithered, she accepted the roses and crown with a wave that seemed just a bit too practiced. Sansa, next to her, clapped along politely. Sandor stood against the bleachers and waited for her when it was all over and she finally got to descend the stage. She walked over to him with a little smile on her face, her skirts swaying slightly.

“You know what this means?” she asked him with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow in retaliation. “You’re going to have to stop calling me the prom queen.”

“You’re always the prom queen in my heart little bird,” he answered, meaning for it to sound mocking and instead coming out loving. Sansa reached up to kiss him and he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of them in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are love and delight. i adore you all.


	4. Summer

God, the sun was warm. Sansa tossed her head back and relished it. The days were hot now and she pulled the suntan lotion out of her bag, squeezing a generous amount into her hand. She still had yet to stop burning her fair skin, but she had a bit of color in her. She hoped that this would help. She applied it to her legs, working her way up. 

"You know that's not fair." a shadow loomed over her. 

"Says who?" she ignored the intrusion, still focused on rubbing in the lotion. 

"Me." 

"And why would I care?" she asked innocently, looking up with a little smile. Sandor's grey eyes were dark and after he watched her for a moment, he growled and lunged for her. Sansa shrieked with laughter as he tossed her over his shoulder. 

"You're going in, little bird." 

"No!" she kicked her feet a little just to put up a fight. There was absolutely no point however and with one casual heave, Sandor tossed her into the pool without remorse. She came up glaring, bobbing slightly to touch the bottom where she was at. "Now I'm going to have to rub that in again." 

"What a shame." he was already pulling off his shirt and shoes. "Because there's no one here who'd do it for you." 

"Who says I need your help?" she teased and he laughed, unzipping his pants and kicking them aside. 

"Not me." then he went to cannonball in and Sansa ducked underwater to avoid the splash. He snagged her around the waist and when they both came up for air, he kissed her before she could catch her breath. 

"You’re off work early," she remarked, pushing his hair back. He shifted her to get a better grip and she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

"Boss let me go, it being Friday and hotter than balls out." 

"What a nice man," Sansa said smugly and he raised an eyebrow. 

"Just because I let you get me this job doesn't mean you get to brag about it." 

"Oh fine, I'll brag about other things." she gave him another kiss and then squirmed out of his arms, swimming to the end. 

"Like what?" he lazily began to float on his back as she pulled herself out of the pool. 

"I finished two whole college applications today," she told him carefully and he paused for a long moment before he asked, 

"Where to?" 

“Around here,” she admitted. She had told Sandor, when this whole application process started, that she wasn’t choosing schools close by because of him. That just happened to be a benefit of the schools she had actually always wanted to attend. He’d grumbled and mostly ignored her but she’d seen his little smile.

“Get the hell back in the water,” he ordered, to change the subject and hide the smile on his face. “It’s too damn hot and I’ve missed you like hell.”

* * *

The water did feel good. His skin was tanned and warm from the long hours he spent with the construction crew in the sun and it felt nice to wash the grime and dust off himself. And if the benefit was seeing Sansa in a teeny tiny bikini, who was he to deny himself? He lazily floated in the pool as Sansa idly flipped through a magazine, getting the last rays of the day.

“What are we doing tonight?” she asked him, squinting at an article about some movie star’s downward spiral into drugs and addiction.

“I wanted to go to the skatepark,” he suggested carefully, standing up to watch her reaction. Sansa flipped the page without looking up.

“Sounds fun. Am I invited?”

“If you’d like.” it was a rather new thing, that she came to skate park in the evenings. She’d made friends with one of the other girlfriends who hung out there, named Osha. Sandor was just glad that she wasn’t dragging him off to some of the stupid parties her friends threw.

“I think I’ll go.” she shut the magazine. “Osha said she’d be there.”

“Five more minutes?” he asked, splashing the water a bit. She pursed her lips, putting her hand on her hips and angling them slightly. He stared at her with pure desire.

“I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d take a shower and I just feel so…. Lonely.”

“Alright, alright.” he scrambled to get to the ladder, not even bothering to grab a towel. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Are you?” she watched him in amusement, then yelped and ran when he made to throw her over his shoulder again. He chased her upstairs and into her bathroom, where she laughed between their kisses and let him pull at the strings of her bathing suit until it ended up in a heap on the floor. She bit his lip slightly but then got into the steaming shower. He peeled his wet underwear off and followed after her, pining her to the shower wall by her wrists and kissing her greedily.

“You know I like you best wet,” he muttered and she flicked his ear, making him grin.

“You know what I like then.”

“I do.” one of his fingers went between her legs while the other poured a dollop of shampoo into her outstretched hands. She smiled and closed her eyes in bliss, lathering up her hair. It was his job to trace every stream of soap that made it down between her breasts.

“Fuck,” she cried when he slipped a finger into her and he bent down to kiss her. He kept up his slow and steady pace as she rinsed her hair and then conditioned. He had her gasping with want before she was done and he smiled as she came hard, biting his shoulder to stop herself from shouting. He helped her tip her head back until the water so that she cleaned her hair and smiled at the lazy contentment in her eyes. But now it was his turn.

* * *

They never actually made it from the shower to the bed. They’d tried, several times, but Sandor didn’t usually have the patience. So Sansa ended up on the bathroom counter, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers tangled into his long, wet hair, and kissing him furiously. She’d been surprised to find that sex was fun. At least, sex with Sandor was. It wasn’t like she had much experience with anyone else, but she didn’t hope to gain it.

He was rather good at it, which she knew should bother her, but it didn’t. He loved her. He told her, not very frequently, but enough for it to be true. She trusted that he was being honest with her. They always were, almost to the point of fault now and then. Sometimes he was so honest it hurt. But she knew that was just his way.

She especially loved when after sex he was so much more vulnerable and open that he usually was. He’d hold her and tell her secrets, whispering them into her hair if he couldn’t tell them to her face. That was when it was just the two of them and everything was so much easier. Just the two of them, in their little bubble, against the world. She never wanted to break it.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered when he finished and she grinned at him, letting him cool down for a second before she wriggled off the counter and kissing his arm.

“You know, we could do that before the shower.”

“But then I’m gross and sweaty,” he mocked and she nodded.

“Yeah, you are.”

“What, no cuddling?” he meant it to tease her but she knew that he enjoyed it, greatly.

“What, and take away from your valuable skating time?” she knew how much it actually meant to him, to get to go do something he liked. She was even getting better at it, when there was no one else in the park to watch her flail about and nearly kill herself. Besides, this way she could get dressed and he could watch her. She knew he liked that just as much.

“You’re right.” he went to get clean clothes from the drawer in her room. They were almost always together and Sansa saw no reason for him to stay at the hell house when her bed was perfectly accommodating for the both of them. It made both her parents rage - the one topic to unite them - but Sansa ignored them and their threats. She opened her closet, pondering her selection.

“How about this?” Osha had lent her the coolest denim jacket; Sansa usually wore it with Sandor’s flannel when the sun went down and she got cold.

“How have you not gotten rid of that?” Sandor demanded and Sansa looked at the jacket.

“It’s Osha’s, I’d just give it back.”

“Not that,” he said, exasperated. “That.” he pointed to her closet floor.

* * *

He couldn’t believe Sansa still had what he’d built her in shop during his after hours with Sam. It was a platform, with several sides, that came a few inches off the floor. He’d painted it hot pink and meant for it to be a mockery of all that she stood for. But Sansa had put it in the center of her closet and there it had remained.

“I like it,” she said stoutly, standing on top of it and inspecting her outfit in the large mirror she’d stationed across from it. “It’s very fashionable.”

“I didn’t mean it to be fashionable,” he answered and she smiled, getting off and coming over to give her a kiss.

“It reminded me of the way you saw me,” she told him quietly, “like a princess. But I’m not that and we both know it.”

“Yeah, sometimes,” he muttered, kissing her because she was his princess and he’d be damned if he told her that. She slung the jacket around her shoulders.

“Are you going to get dressed or what?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, going to pull on pants and a top. He and Sansa grabbed the snack Mordane had left for them; he suspected that Sansa had told her at least about his home life. She was always trying to feed him and the few pairs of pants that he did own had mysteriously came back from the laundry room one day with all of the holes sewn up and the stains out.

Sansa chatted the entire way to the skate park about absolutely nothing and he sat with a little smile. It was nice just to be with her. He liked their time together. When they got to the skate park he was glad to see that Osha was there, sitting at a deserted picnic table and smoking. Sansa gave him a kiss and then headed off to her friend, unbothered in the slightest by leaving him.

He caught up with his friends - some younger, some older, all who thought that Sansa was too good for him and reminded him frequently. He waved it off, mostly because it was true, and went to do a few runs, watching Sansa out of the corner of his eye as she animatedly told Osha a story. At least, he assumed that was what she was doing, guessing by the hand gestures.

At one point, Sansa came to stand at the top of the bowl, watching him. They had a move they’d be perfecting when no one else was there and they’d gotten quite good. He nodded to her and even though there was a crowd, she nodded and sat down. Sandor dropped in from the other side to gain speed, then approached the lip where his girlfriend sat.

The first couple times they’d attempted it, Sansa had shrieked and ducked away. Then once he got her to sit still, he’d found himself chickening out, scared he was going to hurt her. But they’d mastered it last week and now they were going to try it out, in front of an audience for the first time. They came a long way from being scared to be seen together in the hallways of their school. 

He went up the ramp directly below her, catching the lip with one hand and holding the board with another. He had just enough momentum to carry him right up to where Sansa was and kissed her, before he bought the board back down quickly and rode away.

He straightened up, hearing the cheers or groans, depending on the people. He looked over his shoulder at Sansa, who was beaming. She sat there, in a halo of golden evening sunlight, and he couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight than that.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are love and life. My great thanks in advance!


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